The Little Medic That Could
by willwrite4fics
Summary: What challenges would Lifeline face as a new recruit in an elite fighting unit? What would the other soldiers think of him? Another look at the Joe's pacifist medic, Lifeline. Lots of BH, with many of the other Joes, and a few OCs to flesh the story out.
1. Chapter 1

Lifeline's beginnings...

Neither a warrior nor a civilian, Lifeline was always a stand-alone character, tormented by some of the others because of his refusal to pick up a weapon, misunderstood for his pacifist beliefs, how do you suppose his joining up to an elite unit like GI Joe, with a drill instructor like BeachHead, would happen?

I know that in some later comic runs other than Marvel, they had Lifeline carrying a gun, because they couldn't write the character with his pacifist nature intact(direct from their own mouths, no slight implied). In my fics he is still a pacifist, because, like SnakeEye's muteness, and BeachHead's ornery nature, it's a HUGE part of the character. It makes him very unique, even though Doc was supposed to be sort of a pacifist, he carried a sidearm, so it wasn't quite the same.

There are a few OCs in here to give him some fellow recruits without using established characters. You'll note at some point that SnakeEyes does not have Kamakura as an apprentice yet, as in most of my fics, he's portrayed as fairly young and fresh, which wouldn't fit if he was already a Joe when Lifeline joined... see? Also, CoverGirl isn't here yet either.

There will be quite a bit of BeachHead(oh my gosh, SUCH a surprise! I know, you're all stunned that I'd use that character.. ha ha.) as he is the instructor, and he's already a Sergeant major(figure he's just made that rank, more or less). As the fic gets past the first chapter, it will move to mostly Lifeline's POV, don't worry. I'll change about at times to give the Joe's thoughts on this "little medic that could" along the way.

I know, I'm starting ANOTHER fic, rather than finishing the Vacation one, but I'm also working on it too. Don't worry, there's lots on the table. I hope you enjoy it, and watch for SnakeEyes to appear later on a lot too, as he's got to figure out how to teach hand-to-hand to someone who refuses to raise a hand in his own defense. That's after BeachHead runs off a lot of the 'weaker' recruits that won't make the grade due to just his own sterling presence on the PT fields.

Here's the standard disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the GI Joe name or products, and use the characters in this work of independent fiction only to show my great appreciation for the universe created and explored in the comics and cartoons. I make no money for my feeble efforts to entertain with these fics, and hope they are read in the spirit that they are written. Much peace to you! Unless you're a ninja, then much battle and thefts!

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnd.... on to the fic!

* * * *

Duke glanced at the roster of new recruits. 'New' being a bit misleading.. they were all new to GI Joe, but none were new to the military. Cream of the crop all the way across the board, that's what the team got. No new teenaged freshmeat here. Many of the new names were hand-picked by Hawk, Flint, BeachHead or Duke himself. A few were simply good numbers and recommendations on paper, given a try to see if they worked in person as well as they looked on paper. Those had to be sterling, without outstanding issues. No young fresh raw recruits, no serious trouble-makers, and absolutely no glaring mistakes.

He glanced back down at the top file and pushed the office door open. "Duke reporting as ordered.. sir." He sketched a quick salute to Hawk who was seated comfortably behind the desk. "I have the new personnel files.. and there's one.."

"Let me guess... Edwin Steen.."

Duke nodded at him. "So you saw the file..."

Hawk looked at him seriously. "I hand picked the man. I know the file." Duke swallowed his planned initial comments. "Go ahead and tell me your concerns, I know what the major one will be."

Duke nodded and flipped the file open. "He's barely passing the physical requirements. That doesn't bode well for him to pass BeachHead. And.. he's a pacifist."

Hawk nodded calmly. "He's said he doesn't mind having to raise his physical standards. although I have a suspicion that he has no clue how high the standard is going to be set. He's a hard worker, used to long hours."

Duke shifted his weight to his other leg. "But.. he's a pacifist.. how can he be a combat medic.. when he refuses to pick up a weapon?"

His superior officer shook his head. "Steen won't be attacking the enemy, he's supposed to be rescuing the wounded. That's the problem we had with our last two medics. They were more focused on getting into the firefight, and less on the wounded they were supposed to be evacuating." He reached over to pull the file over and flipped it open. "He's already seen combat, his superior officer had nothing but praise for him. Says he'll run into the worst zone to grab someone who needs help. Doesn't lack for courage, and he's got all the medical knowledge and experience. He's just shy of being a full M.D. So he'll be able to stand in the Medical Wards, assisting Doc."

Duke closed the file. "Okay.. so he's a brave little medic. That's great. Who's gonna tell BeachHead that he gets to train a pacifist for a field position?"

Hawk smiled at him. "You are."

He sighed ruefully. "I should have seen that coming a mile away... I really should." Hawk nodded, looking smugly pleased with himself. "I don't supposed passing the buck to Flint would be okay..."

"No. That would just escalate, and then I'll have to deal with it, and if I wanted to deal with it myself, I wouldn't be telling you to deal with it, now would I?"

"No sir... I'll talk with BeachHead. He'll have to figure out something." He stopped as he was turning to the door. "Sir... how did he pass Basic Training?"

"With flying colors. Why?" Hawk looked confused.

Duke picked up the file to find the appropriate page. "Well, he would have to pass weapons training.. right?"

Hawk laughed. "That's what's going to cheese off our drill instructor AND Low-Light both.. he's a natural shot. Qualified on the ranges on all required weapons on his first try. Then never picked one up again. Made all the instructors have fits. I was told in detail about that."

Duke groaned as he found the qualifying scores. "Beach is gonna scream. Literally.. he's going to skip the growling, the raised voice, the shouting.. and go right to top of his lungs screaming."

The general nodded. "Most likely." He looked insufferably pleased over the situation.

"Okay.. I get it. Put in some ear plugs and suck it up. Got it. I'll go talk to our Sergeant Major before he gets wind of this on his own. When are they arriving?"

"Tomorrow morning.. bright and early. Transport plane on the runway."

"Peachy.. Permission to leave Sir?"

Hawk smiled at him. "Permission granted, knew I could count on you."

* * * *

"BeachHead!" Duke's voice carried over the shouting and noise of forty Joes going through the PT session. The Sergeant Major watching over it all turned to look at Duke without a hint of annoyance.

"Be right there, sir." He motioned for Stalker to take his place. "Take over, be right back." He started to walk over and stopped long enough to bend over the least enthusiastic member. "Shipwreeeeeck... get it in gear! If it's too hard to finish, you jus' let me know... I'll double it up so it seems easier tomorrow."

"Yes Sergeant major.. no Sergeant major.." The sailor made an effort to speed up his push-ups. Beach walked over to Duke and motioned for him to head further away.

Standing far enough away to be out of earshot, Duke stopped. "We got new recruits coming in." He saw the smile that appeared under BeachHead's mask. "I wanted to talk with you about one particular one..."

BeachHead frowned. "What? We got a problem child coming in?"

Duke hummed. "Not really.. just a little unusual. He's a medic.. a field medic..."

The Ranger perked up. "We need a good field medic! Last ones were no good. So what's the problem?"

Duke looked at the Ranger who looked downright happy. He so rarely saw him looking content and happy. He had barely raised his voice to berate Shipwreck.. and with new recruits coming in for him to begin training, he was like a big puppy anticipating a new toy. It would be a real shame to upset him now.. he was gonna cop out of telling him.. he really was...

"He's a pacifist."

He watched the happy expression go to puzzled. "A what?"

"A pacifist."

Now the puzzled look was complete. "Wait.. I swear.. heh.. I thought you said.. pacifist.."

"Yes. Pacifist. The new medic.. field medic.. "

"HE CAN'T BE A FRIGGIN' PACIFIST!!! He's in the GOL'DANGED ARMY!!!"

Duke winced, watching him go from puzzled directly to furious. "Ahh.. yes.. still, he is one. Maybe he'll be the only pacifist combat field medic in the Army... but hey.. first time for everything."

"It's INSANE! WE CANNOT HAVE A PACIFIST MEDIC!!!" BeachHead suddenly clamped his jaw shut. "This is a joke right? Ha ha. Very funneh! See how mad ya can get ole' BeachHead. Well, hardy-har-har. I got work ta do."

Duke sighed. "Here's the files.. they'll arrive tomorrow morning." The Ranger took the files in hand, and peered suspiciously at the lieutenant. "Don't say I didn't warn you.. oh.. and Hawk handpicked him.. so you can't just boot him out."

BeachHead stopped him. "You're serious. How am I supposed to work with a friggin' pacifist? What? Give him a water pistol and say 'here's hopin' ya don't die!'??"

Duke tilted his head thinking. He didn't want to upset the sergeant further. "I don't think he'd carry a water pistol..."

"Yer pushin' mah buttons now..."

Duke nodded. "Got it, I'm gonna go away now. You have a good day.. try not to send anyone to the infirmary..."

BeachHead gave him another puzzled look. "What? Ya want me to just let 'em bleed?"

"Never mind.."

* * * *

Flint and BeachHead stood waiting on the cargo plane. It had been delayed due to poor weather and now they were both doing their best to not stare each other down next to the hanger. Flint glared over at BeachHead finally.

"Sooo.. looking forward to breaking a bunch of new guys?"

"Yeah. Looking forward to seeing if there's any new skirts for you to chase?"

"Shut up."

"What's wrong? Jaye kick you outa bed again?"

"What's wrong? Stick get stuck up your butt again?"

Their sniping was interrupted by one of the ground crew. "Uhh.. sirs..."

BeachHead snapped at him irritably. "Don't call me Sir!"

The young man twisted his face a bit, thinking that over. "Umm.. m'kay. Sergeant and sir... the plane will be here in another ten minutes. And Clutch asked that you not have any actual fistfights unless you warn him so he can get a betting pool going first."

Flint fixed a baleful gaze on him, crossing his arms and scowling. "Brave for a soon-to-be busted-to-nothing private.. aren't you?"

The boy took a deeper breath. "Busted to potato peeler already sir.. once you get to the lowest point, you get pretty cheeky about it."

BeachHead snorted at him. "How'd you like to clean the motorpool's oil pits.. with a tampon?"

The boy visibly twitched. "No Sergeant major... I'll go back inside Sergeant major."

"You do that." BeachHead went back to standing and watching the approach vector.

Flint scowled at BeachHead. The man irritated him just by standing there. And he didn't have anyone else to scowl at anyway. Everyone else had long since vacated the area. Once the two of them began an argument, it was always a good idea to get out of ground zero.

BeachHead ignored him. That in itself irked Flint. The man should be fidgeting. He should be worried about the plane being late, or what sort of recruits they were getting, or whether Flint was irked at him for being imperturbable! Of course.. if the sergeant stopped being imperturbable, then Flint wouldn't be irked at him. Then he wouldn't be worried about Flint. He blinked. But then not being worried about Flint was what irked Flint in the first... he growled under his breath.

"Beach, you give me a blasted headache!"

BeachHead barely glanced at him. "I aint' doin' nothin'!"

"You still give me a headache. Why don't you DO something!?"

"DO what? I'm waiting on the danged plane to arrive, what do you expect me to do? Run down the road and find 'em and drag 'em back on a danged rope?"

"Well I expect you to do something other than stand there like a blasted statue!"

"Well, maybe I need to go see if I can make a fool of myself. Wait.. no.. that'd be YOUR job."

"One of these days I'm gonna knock some sense into you." Flint turned to the stocky sergeant. "If it weren't for Duke thinking you're the best drill we got.."

"Ha! If it weren't fer you bein' a pansy, you mean!"

"Oh now you'll call me names, huh? You want a piece of me? Why don't you come try and get it!?"

"I don't need any pieces of you, I gotta extra box of 'loser' last time I went to the PX." Beach suddenly jerked back as Flint punched the air. "Yeah, come on and punch me! Maybe I'll notice this time!"

"Yeah? Maybe I'll send you up to Doc with another broken nose!" Flint sneered at him. "As I recall, you lost that fight too."

BeachHead crossed his arms again, looking out from behind the cloth facemask. "Can't call it a 'fight' when I ain't allowed to hit a superior officer, SIR."

Flint clenched his jaw so hard he heard his molars grind. "Shut up. Just... shut up. I don't want to hear anything else from you."

"Fine by me, you started it in the first danged place."

"SHUT UP!"

"Yes sir."

"SHUT UP!!!"

"I said YES SIR! Whaddaya want from me!?"

Flint closed his eyes and counted to ten... twice. "You chap my ass. Just saying."

"Yeah.. that's a mental image I wanted."

Flint opened his mouth to yell and spotted the place coming in on approach. "Finally!"

They both stood there silently while the plane did all the usual landing, taxiing, and bits and things that cargo planes did. Flint paced a bit, checking his list and cursing softly under his breath. BeachHead stood in place, arms crossed, irking Flint.

Flint finally glared at him. "Didn't you bring a list?"

"Can't you remember what you're doin' without writing it down?" The two men locked gazes, both trying to cow the other through sheer intimidation. "Need a few post-it notes?"

"Oh THAT'S IT!" Flint took two steps toward the smirking Ranger.

"Oh.. look, here's our recruits. You wanna go meet them and make friends, Flint?"

The warrant officer stopped and held up a finger to him. "Don't... don't you dare start!" He turned and took a deep breath, calming himself before walking over to where the latest sixteen recruits were assembling off the cargo plane. "Alright recruits! Form up over here!" With the engine noise and general chatter, they mostly didn't hear his orders. He opened his mouth to shout and was drowned out from behind.

"FORM UP MAGGOTS!!" Everyone jumped and scrambled to grab duffel bags and line up to the side. "Ya'll SHUT UP! An' pay attention to Warrant Officer Flint before I gotta kick yer butts into last week!" BeachHead gave a curt nod to Flint and stalked off to the side, slightly behind Flint's position, and absolutely correct in each movement.

Flint counted to ten again. The man just plain made him want to bite something in half. He didn't need him to form up the recruits, he as perfectly capable.. oh yes.. they're waiting for him to say something. He cleared his throat.

"Welcome to the Pit. You've all been chosen because we think you've got what it takes to be part of this elite team. You're the cream of the crop.. best of the best. But that isn't good enough here. For you to become members of this squad, you're going to have to impress us with every aspect of yourselves.. not just potential, and not just one field. We're totally uninterested in what you CAN BE... we're interested in what you ARE! So I expect you all to be showing us one hundred percent in every way! We're a team here, if you can't work together, you're of NO use here! If you need someone else to lean on, you're of no use here! Right now, you're all on probationary status until you prove yourselves. Most of you will wash out, and be returned to whatever branch of the military you served in before. If any of you have any problems, or wish to leave the team, you can come see me, and I'll take care of it."

He looked over the bored faces. Stepping slightly aside, he lifted a hand at the silent Ranger standing behind him. "This is Sergeant major BeachHead.." There was a slight murmur in the group and he scowled. Once again, the shout from behind came before he could speak up.

"SILENCE!! Warrant Officer Flint didn't say you could TALK!" Everyone clammed up and Flint clenched his jaw in irritation.

"As I was saying..." His icy tone seemed to go unnoticed by BeachHead, although some of the recruits looked slightly nervous. "This is your drill instructor. He's going to have day-to-day charge of you. BeachHead will be setting up your schedules, and you can see him with any further questions." He turned to the sergeant major waiting patiently. "They're all yours."

Giving a slight nod of his head to Flint, BeachHead stepped up past him. Flint resisted the urge to find a pipe to brain him with.. just on general principles. Instead he walked back into the hanger leaving the recruits to BeachHead. "Stupid Ranger.."

* * * *

Beach mentally smirked as Flint stalked away. Irritating the warrant officer was a full time hobby for him now. He'd never gotten along with a warrant officer yet, and he didn't particularly expect to start any time in the future. Generally they were insufferable jerks, and the idea that this specific one really hated him with a passion just filled him with amusement.

"Okay you bunch of maggots.. you might think you're the best of the best.. but as far as I'm concerned you're a bunch of lowly pogues until you prove different! Some of you are obviously slacking on the PT department.. while some of you are lacking in your weapons training.. and others just plain SUCK. So we're gonna run you, and train you, and beat you, and take you all the way to your breaking point and beyond.. and THEN I'll really get started!! Do you unnerstand me!?"

There was a weak chorus of 'yes sergeant' and 'yes sir'. He lifted his voice to the intimidating bellow.

"I SAID DO YOU UNNERSTAND ME!?!? I WANNA HEAR AN ANSWER!!"

They all jumped in a satisfying manner. "YES SERGEANT MAJOR!"

He narrowed his gaze. "Good. When I ask a question I expect an answer! I don't stand out here chatting up the breeze! You think I got nuthin' better ta do than stand around talkin' ta myself!?" He phrased it so there was no good answer deliberately. As always, the chorus jumbled up combining both yes and no as the answers. At least they were all shouted at a decent volume. "WHAT WAS THAT?! DO YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE!?"

"NO SERGEANT MAJOR!"

He subsided again. As long as he had their attention, he'd get started. "Alright.. I'm gonna call roll this once.. just to make sure you all managed to walk yourselves off the plane all by yourselves. Never know when one of you might get yourself lost walking that hundred feet." He began to snap out names, putting faces to each of the listed named he'd memorized. This group had six women, which was an unheard of percentage to him. He had four SEALs, and he almost always ended up washing out SEALs somehow. Three Air Force pilots.. all of them hotshots with attitudes from their files. They needed more good pilots though. And finally he yelled out "Steen!" and spotted the lone medic standing in the back corner. The guy even wore glasses. Great.. just great. He fixed his glare on the slender form in fatigues and saw him drop his gaze. A nonconfrontational pacifist with glasses.. and out of shape to boot. Just what he needed. From his first perusal, he'd guess at least four would wash out before a full day had passed, just on physical conditioning. One of the females was a definite wash, as was two of the guys, both of them Marines. The last was the medic, who was Army, although Beach didn't quite understand how.

"Okay.. now that I know everyone's names.. grab your duffels.. you're probably all cramped up after that long plane ride.. so let's stretch our legs a little bit." The SEALs and half of the rest slung their duffels over their chest, tossing the straps over their heads to settle the bags into place on their backs, expecting a run. The rest clumsily followed suit, some not bothering to sling the bags, but hanging them on one shoulder. The medic didn't even bother with that, but carried his by it's strap. BeachHead shook his head. "FORM UP IN PAIRS!! We're going for a run!" He snapped and shouted them into a squad and harassed them along to the fenceline. Running along the fence gave him plenty of time to check everyone's physical conditioning. As he expected, the majority ran along well, the two marines, one female and the medic all struggled.

At somewhere close to the halfway mark, he stopped them and took the time to yell at them about what poor shape they were in, pointing out three of the SEALs that were still fresh looking. The yelling gave them a breather, and put a healthy dose of terror into them at the same time. Later on they'd be expected to run the entire fenceline as a matter of course.. but if he tried it with this bunch of half-weights, at least a couple would fall out and need medical attention. Doc had warned him especially about what he'd do if Beach sent a recruit into the infirmary on the first day. Although the team doctor and drill instructor argued on a regular basis, he was also one of the few men in GI Joe that could actually terrify BeachHead. It wasn't so much that the man was scary.. it was that he seemed to enjoy the special terror he could inflict legitimately on any of the team, on his whim. Sure.. he was a gentle medic, caring and good and kind beyond measure. Make him angry, as Beach had a habit of doing somehow, and he turned into a tyrant that could twist you into the worst situation possible, and he'd pulled out the worst threat ever to Beach's mind.. the 'full medical leave' threat. He shuddered just thinking about it.

Judging the group to be about rested enough to make it back, he harried them back up into lines and chased them back along the fence to the hanger. Once they straggled into there, no less than five of them flopped onto the ground, gasping for breath. He stalked up to them and glared down at all five. At least the skinny medic wasn't one of them, he'd already checked on him. He was one of half a dozen that were walking slowly to cool off properly, although he had dropped his duffel on the ground rather than still carry it.

"Are you pogues comfy laying there? Did I somehow forget to mention that this isn't nappy time? We DO NOT LIE DOWN ON THE GROUND AND SLEEP WHEN WE'RE PERFORMING PT!!!!" His voice got louder on each word and startled them all right off the ground. One of the pilots seemed to have managed to learn to levitate, he rose up so quickly. The two sloppy marines took almost a full minute to get up, grumbling and dragging their bags along with them.

He walked a circle around both of them. Then he stopped and frowned at them both, softening his tone with concern. "Is there something wrong with ya'll two? Got some injury I can't see?" They both assured him they were perfectly fine. "Get back on the danged plane." They looked at each other in confusion. "Get back.. on.. the.. plane. I'll see to it your paperwork arrives before you do. You're dismissed."

He walked away, wondering just a little which reaction they'd give him. One trudged up the loading ramp with his bag.. the other one started cursing softly. Beach went to check on the female grunt who was puffing still from the run, but at least she was walking upright. The sergeant chivvied them into a rough formation.

"What's wrong with you recruits? Haven't you EVER stood in a danged group? ONE arm's length apart.. it's not rocket science!" They scooted around, trying to get into place while he glared at them all. His problem Marine finally got up the nerve to come try confronting him.

"Sir! I wanna know why you're dismissing me!" The angry tone coming from the young man was almost laughable.

BeachHead turned just his head to look at him. "You didn't make the cut. Get on the plane. You can go back to your unit." He turned his attention back to the group although he was quite aware of every move the pogue behind him was making. Just to make it harder on him, he began to pace up and down in front of the others who were suddenly VERY attentive and VERY much in place and standing properly awaiting any orders. The idea that he'd just ditched two of them without so much as ever letting them SEE the infamous Pit.. without ever even letting them unpack a bag.. that made them all very highly aware that they could be the next person walking back onto the plane to leave. He was pleased. Usually it took a few days to shake loose the first wash-outs.

"SIR! You can't cut me from the team!! I haven't even had a chance!" This time he approached to within a couple feet of the drill instructor, trying to get into his face while staying safely out of range.. a typically pathetic try at being alpha by a undertrained pup.

BeachHead looked at him, again without bothering to face him completely. "I can.. I did, and you had your chance. It's over now. Get on the plane." Even as he started to look away, he stepped backwards as the poor deluded idiot lunged forward at him. One leg came up, the knee slamming into his thigh and tossing him onto the pavement. Although he did briefly consider letting him jump at him a few more times just for some exercise and to burn off some pent-up annoyance, BeachHead reached down and picked up the stocky young man by the back of his neck and his belt, carried him physically to the cargo ramp and gave him a toss onto it.

After the loud thud of him landing faded away, the sergeant major stared at him. "I said.. get on the danged plane. If you step one danged foot off this plane, I'll consider you a threatening intruder and I'll break your left leg." He watched the boy scramble backwards on all fours. Twisting around, he stalked back over to the group and looked them over.

"Anyone else want to give me some argument? Anyone else wanna bleat about how they need a 'chance'? No? Good. Drop and gimme a hundred push-ups." He waited while they got through about fifteen. "I don't hear no one countin'!!" He'd half expected for someone to begin counting in the teens.. but they started at one as was proper.

An hour later, after he'd put them through plenty of mind-numbing exercise, he ran them down the road. There was a nice transport truck at the hanger for him to load them into and drive them to the Pit. He didn't see any reason they couldn't make the trip on their own feet. Two miles down the road, one of the SEALs just stopped in the road. BeachHead dropped back and then stopped, looking back at him standing there. Finally he walked back up to him.

"You alright?" The last thing he wanted was to have a recruit fall out for some outlandish reason. The man looked fine, standing there breathing hard. "Hey."

The lean fit SEAL suddenly looked at him weird. "I'm gonna go back to the plane." He turned and started trotting down the road and BeachHead watched him go.

"Well.. ain't that a kick?" He pulled out a communicator and contacted the hangers. "Ace? Gotta SEAL headed back, hold that plane for him. Make sure he gets on, don't want any security breaches. Watch him cause he's gone a little odd."

Ace's voice sounded disappointed. "Got it Beach. Is that a total of three washes?"

BeachHead snorted and lifted the communicator. "Total three.. and I ain't even got 'em back to the Pit yet. Don't close the bettin' pool yet."

The pilot made sure to sigh mournfully over the comm line. "Man.. you're gonna break me. Is it true that you gotta pacifist in the bunch?"

BeachHead started running back up the road to catch up to his remaining recruits who hadn't stopped. "Yeah.. one pacifist.. how the heck did you hear already?"

Ace laughed at him. "Pilot talk. He's not shy about admitting it. Sounds like he's a decent guy.. other than that. Didn't call anyone on the plane a murderer or anything. Here comes your SEAL.. went right onto the plane. We'll be taking off in fifteen, just in case you want to send a few more back home before they get in the door."

He grunted. "No, I'd rather have 'em around a couple of days to give me someone to beat on other than you lazy Joes. BeachHead out." He clicked the unit off and tucked it into a thigh pocket and sped up, easily overtaking the group. "You're gonna take until dinner time to get there at this pace.. you wanna make me miss my lunch? I'll lose my good mood if I miss my lunch! Get it in gear!" He settled back next to the medic. He wasn't wheezing.. but he was panting. Dropping back further, he settled in behind the group.

By the time they straggled into the Pit motorpool, he was fairly impressed with the woman he'd thought would wash out. She needed conditioning.. nearly as badly as the medic did. But she'd run the whole way, no complaints. Since she was one of the three pilots, he really wanted her to make it.

He directed them to the two barracks. "Females to the left.. guys to the right." He followed the men into the building and tacked a page onto the bulletin board. "Your schedule, be early to everything. There's a small building with a rec room in it, you're allowed to be there. You have an area to work out, you got beds. We'll be going down into the Pit in fifteen minutes."

Walking over to the female bunkhouse, he rapped the door twice. Waiting for approximately ten seconds, he opened the door and walked in. "That's the only time I'm gonna be polite, just to warn you. You're recruits, not ladies. You got issues with me walking in and finding you in your skivvies.. don't be in your skivvies. Got it?"

All six answered. "Yes Sergeant Major!"

He tacked the same schedule up on their board. "Here's your schedule, be early to everything. Small building past the guy's bunkhouse is the rec room. We'll be headed down into the Pit in ten minutes."

He walked out and waited in front. In eight minutes, he had half the recruits standing there looking uneasily at him. Nine minutes, he had ten of the thirteen. At exactly ten minutes he took two steps towards the men's barracks to go fetch the laggards, and they came flying out to get into place.

"Did you perhaps forget we were out here?"

One of them spoke up quickly. "No sergeant! I lost my file, sergeant!"

BeachHead narrowed his gaze, flicking it to the other two late recruits. "I see. Did you locate your file?"

"Yes sergeant!"

"Well, that's peachy. And why were there three of you inside?"

He stayed quiet. Beach stepped up in front of him, knowing his facemask-covered visage scared most recruits. "I'm sorry... I didn't hear your answer. Maybe I'm getting hard of hearing in my elderly state here. So let's try it again. Why were there three of you inside to look for your file?"

The recruit swallowed but still stayed silent. Beach was slightly impressed. One of the others spoke up finally.

"We were helping him look, sir. We didn't want him to be late to assembling up." He turned his head to look incredulously.

Walking over to the speaker, he gazed at him, then walked around him slowly to look him over. The medic stood stock still, not quite in the way that a new recruit stands hoping to avoid notice.. there was something 'off'. Filing it away to think about it later, Beach stopped in front of him. "Steen. Was I speaking to you?"

"No sir."

"Don't call me sir."

"No sergeant major." The tone held just a hint of a quaver.

"Good teamwork." He walked back up to the front of the group. "This is not a competition. You are not trying to beat each other out of a spot on the Joe team. Let's head down to the Pit. You'll each be interviewed, either by me.. or by Warrant Officer Flint.. or by Lieutenant Duke." He strode off, and entered the motorpool. Herding them onto the platform, he nodded to Dusty. "Take us down.. "

As they began to descend, he noted one of the female recruits looking upwards at the desert trooper with a appreciative gaze. He looked up himself and caught Dusty's eye and wagged a finger at him with a stern look. Dusty jerked and looked around innocently. BeachHead pointed two fingers at his own eyes and then at Dusty. He was pleased to see the young man's shoulders slump slightly.

"Yeah.. won't be none of that.." He let his gaze fasten on the woman, staring calmly until she happened to turn and spot him looking at her. She jumped and looked guilty and he shook his head. "Yeah."

* * * *

End chapter:

Well, it's a start. As the fic goes on, Lifeline(Edwin Steen as per canon) is a great deal more prominent. Reviews are appreciated as always. If you have ideas on what he'd have issues with, etc, please feel free to comment or PM me.

As always, Thank You for reading.


	2. Chapter 2: Interviewing

A couple author's notes since I (of course) forgot to address things in the first chapter. In keeping with my own personal line in the fics I write, Duke is NOT a sergeant, but is indeed a lieutenant. Why give him a promotion? Because according to canon, almost all the Joe's are sergeants. That makes for a very murky chain of command, i.e. Flint, Falcon, and several other lesser Joe's would ALL outrank Duke, which makes NO sense, since Duke has always been referred to as the 2nd in command of the Joe team. So I decided to just plain make him a Lieutenant in my fics. Duke seems quite pleased by his new rank, and hasn't complained one bit to me.

Also, please remember that this is GI Joe, not the Real Life Military. Half the characters would have been drummed out of the service in the comics and cartoon if they acted the way they do in the real military. Therefore... Joes will fight, talk back, carry odd weapons, run off on personal errands, slack off, nap in Maulers, etc etc.. even on occasion I hear some dress as ninjas and others fraternize BLATANTLY with members of the opposite sex. (Cough, Flint, LadyJaye, Cough cough) I know!! Gasp!!! But it happens because it's a fictional mixed bag of military odd balls. Whaddaya gonna do?

Also, Steen doesn't think he's 'nearly a MD', and would be appalled to hear Hawk describe him as such. Doc would also probably be annoyed. But to Hawk, he's got more training than "just a medic", so to him he's practically a doctor. Hawk is a general, not a doctor, give him a break. He's dealing with all these crazy soldiers all day. After all, in a Real Life Hospital, a regular medic would hardly be allowed to even put in stitches. Lifeline does a LOT more than tape a piece of gauze over a bullethole, but he stops short of performing surgery.. so assume he's somewhere in between.

Now, for this particular fic, Steen(rem, it's really Lifeline, but he ain't got that codename yet, so don't tell him, shhhh!!! Heehee!) is really trying to fit in. BeachHead is really trying to figure out how exactly he's gonna deal with him.

Now that half the fic is Forward.... Here's the actual story! Please continue to tell me any issues you see with the story, I don't just discount problems, I do try to address them. From here on out, it'll be MUCH more from Steen's POV as we go along, and I'll be introducing the OCs a bit more, now that there's so much fewer of them around.

Thanks for reading!!

* * * *

In the offices, with the recruits being interviewed......

BeachHead pulled the next file and sighed. He'd made certain he got Steen.

"STEEN!" He waited for a minute until the medic was in and standing in front of his desk. "Sit." He looked at him for a few seconds, his facial expression almost totally hidden beneath his balaclava, which was the main reason to wear it. "Sooo.. pacifist?"

"Yes sir."

Beach puffed out an exasperated breath. "Don't call me sir. How'd you make it through Basic calling us sergeants 'sir' all the danged time?"

"Sorry Sergeant major. It's.. uhh.. sorry. I'll try harder." Steen almost squirmed nervously in the chair, something unusual.

"What's wrong with you? Sit still, dang it. I ain't gonna bite you." He plucked up the file to flip the pages around some. "Hawk says your one of the best field medics. I'm just having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that you're a combat medic in the field.. gonna go rushin' out into a battle.. and you're a pacifist. Are ya maybe.. oh.. uhh.. a partial pacifist?"

The slender medic shook his head firmly. "No sir..Sergeant major.. I won't use a weapon.. I won't fight. I won't raise a hand to any person, not even in defense of myself or others."

BeachHead sucked on a tooth for a minute, thinking that over. "Hmm." He turned the sheets over and pulled out the weapons ranking and slid that over to him. "You passed the weapons training with top scores."

Steen didn't bother to look at the page. "Yes Sergeant major. I haven't willingly touched a weapon since I put down the M-16 after my qualifying round."

He put his chin in one hand then, propping his head on an elbow. "Willingly?"

Now the slender man looked down. "Some people didn't want to be very accepting of my choices. I guess you could claim they 'touched' me, rather than I touched them."

"Okay. Well." He pulled the sheet of paper back with a finger and sat there looking at his personal conundrum. "You had any issues with people cause you're a pacifist?"

"Yes Sergeant Major." He didn't elaborate.

"You're not making this easy. Are you scared of me?" He shifted his chin to the opposite hand, and looked at him from a slightly new direction, still contemplating the general idea. "You can interview with someone else. I'm still gonna be your drill though. Can't change that."

Steen took a deep breath and then let it out. "No Sergeant major, it's not your fault. Can I be.. frank?"

"By all means. Let's be frank."

"You shout a lot. And you act pretty violent." Steen stopped, even though it was obvious he had more to say.

"I do indeed." Chin still propped in hand, he waited patiently.

"Well.. it's not really.. uhh.. "

"Oh spit it out Steen."

"You remind me of my father. And he wasn't a nice person. So you make me nervous. I'll get over it."

BeachHead blinked at him. Just when he thought it couldn't get any stranger. "Do I look old enough to be your father? Gawd.. I don't feel old."

"No. But you yell like he did, and you get in people's faces, and you just.. you act like you're ready to just grab someone and beat them. It's a little intimidating." Steen was sitting there placidly telling him all this.

"Well, I'm not about to beat someone for no reason. But I am a loud violent person. You'll have to deal with it." BeachHead watched this skinny little medic nodding seriously at him. "I dunno what I'm gonna do with you. You won't touch the weapons? Even for training? Target practice? Something?"

"No sergeant major."

"Well." He picked up the file in both hands now and closed it carefully. "Hmm. The other issue I have right now is your physical conditioning. Or.. more to the point, your great lack of physical conditioning."

"I passed requirements."

"Not MY requirements. You'll have to really work a lot harder to get up to snuff. Whether Hawk thinks you're a good medic or not, if you can't keep up, you become a liability. The only other recruit in as lousy shape is Finnegin, and that's one of the girls. Otherwise, they all got you beat.. hands down. Even those two Marines I booted out were in better shape than you are."

Steen suddenly looked confused. "Then... then why did you kick them out, and not me?"

"Cause they don't belong in the Joe team. They sat down and gave up. They were gonna do the bare minimum to get by." BeachHead suddenly pulled out two other files. "I went to personally look at two possible guys over at Fort Hood. This guy.." He tapped one file. "This guy did six hundred and forty-two push-ups, and this guy..." He tapped another file. "He did a thousand even. How about you guess which one impressed me more? Which one got a chance to come here?"

"The guy who did a thousand. That's a easy choice."

"Wrong. The guy who did six hundred and forty-two. You wanna know why?" Beach tapped the desk. "The guy did six hundred and forty-two push-ups because he couldn't manage to get himself pried up one more time and give me six hundred and forty-three. The other guy did a thousand and then quit." He slid the one file off the end of the desk with a finger, letting it fall into his wastebasket. "He gave me enough to qualify, enough to impress me. Then he stopped." He pointed at the remaining file. "This guy gave me everything he had.. until he couldn't find anymore to give me. That whole hundred and ten percent thing. Anyone can do push-ups with some training. It takes a special person to give you heart." He put his chin in his hand again. "Are you gonna show me some heart, Steen? Or will you do just enough to get by?"

"I'll give you whatever I got." Steen paused. "I can't do six hundred push-ups though. I think I'd die."

BeachHead sighed happily. "No you won't die. You'll just wish you could." He sat up. "Well.. okay. I'll just figure out how to deal with you. I guess you'll be exempt from weapons training. I'll schedule your time with Doc in the Medical Bay during that spot. Otherwise you'll train with the rest. PT, hand-to-hand.." He stopped. "Oh wait.. let me guess.. unarmed combat is still combat." Getting a earnest nod, he sighed heavily. "Just what do you suppose you'll do if you run out to get a wounded guy and some hostile rushes up at you with a knife?"

"I'll yell that I'm a medic, and if I need to, I'll put myself between the patient and the hostile." Steen looked back at him with serious eyes. "Then I'll hope really really hard that you're around to back me up and scare the guy off."

Beach shook his head. "Well.. I'm gonna pass the buck and let SnakeEyes deal with you in hand-to-hand. He can figure out that part. Maybe he knows some way for you to throw yourself into the fray non-violently. Either that or he'll just tie all four of your limbs into knots and let you sit and think about it. Who knows. If you have any problems, any issues, or anyone gives you too much crap, you come let me know. I'll take care of it. If you find me too scary to come talk to, go find Flint. He's next in line up the command structure. If you think he's too scary.. or the issue doesn't get resolved, you can go to Duke.. or Doc. Doc will be your superior officer if you make the grade." He took one last long look at the younger man. "Are you sure this isn't some sort of elaborate prank?"

"No sir. No prank."

"Stop calling me sir. Anything else you want to ask or say?"

Steen got up quickly. "No sergeant. I'm just going to be a medic.. but I'll still work hard to get into condition."

"Yep.. you sure will. Dismissed."

Steen left and BeachHead sat and thought about it. They did need a field medic. So far.. other than the minor issue of physical conditioning.. and the major issue of his pacifist leanings, he thought this one might work out for them. He just needed to figure out how to make this square peg fit into the round hole.

He shook his head and fished out the next file.

* * * *

Steen himself wandered the barracks area, poking his head into the small rec area and then back outside. As always, he felt he was a bit of an outsider. People seemed to like him, but they never seemed to quite know how to deal with him. He hoped that this posting would work out well though.

He found the fitness area and joined a few of the others in working out. It seemed ridiculous to be pushing his body so hard, when he wouldn't be fighting. He had plenty of endurance, he'd learned that working in civilian ERs. But why he'd need to be in peak physical conditioning to be a medic was beyond him. Of course.. he could sense that the drill instructor was going to demand a much higher level of conditioning that he was at.

Finnegin was lifting weights, her auburn hair tucked under a bandanna, and he went over to ask her if she needed a spotter. She gave him a suspicious look. She accepted his offer, but looked like she expected some sort of smarmy remark. When he didn't offer any such thing up, she relaxed and they spent most of the evening working out together. He found out she had been a top pilot, but had recently snapped her thigh into four pieces in a botched ejection from a jet.

"That's why you're in lousy shape!" She glared at him. "Oh.. I don't mean lousy... but I can tell you're usually in much better shape.. you seem so impatient when you can't push harder. Did you just finish up your rehab?"

She nodded warily. "I got accepted for probation.. and then the leg happened. I'm lucky they still held the offer. Sergeant major seemed relieved when I explained why I was so out of shape. I think he'll be whipping all of us into froth for PT. I've heard about him. People say he's the worst drill there ever was. Between his smell and his insistence on all of us being super-soldiers, he'll just about kill us all, or he won't think he's doing it right."

Steen shook his head. "He's frighteningly violent. I thought he would get into a physical altercation with that Marine."

She sneered. "Oh yeah.. he'd have wiped the pavement up with his face. He didn't even break a sweat picking that loser up and chucking him into the plane." Her face cleared and she jumped to her feet. "Sergeant Major!"

BeachHead stalked through. "As you were.." Steen relaxed slightly as the bulky figure disappeared again.

"He's eerie... you just never know when he'll pop up somewhere. You'd think we could hear him coming."

She snickered. "You'd think we could smell him coming."

He looked out the window. "You know.. I heard there's the baddest meanest commando ever here, part of the Joe team.

Her eyes brightened. "I heard he's killed a hundred people."

One of the SEALs snorted loudly. "I heard he's so deadly, General Hawk keeps him locked in the Pit so he doesn't snap and start murdering innocent civilians."

A second SEAL tossed his towel at the first. "Yeah.. he's gonna turn out to be like every other big name badass. He'll be a good to excellent trainer, he'll test us, at least a couple of us will surpass his abilities, and he'll pass us after he show him we're as good as him."

The larger Army man grunted loudly. "Yeah.. he's probably some desk jockey who knows black belt karate.. oooo! We'll be terrified." He sat up grinning at the laughter. "They oughta just let BeachHead teach the hand-to-hand. He's a Ranger.. he could do it."

Steen coughed slightly. "I heard the name of our hand-to-hand trainer.. or at least I'm pretty sure of it. Well.. his codename anyway. It's some guy named SnakeEyes."

The large Army guy suddenly leaned in. "What?? SnakeEyes? He's the hand-to-hand instructor? You sure you hear the name right?" He nodded. "..holy geez... he's a spook!" The guy suddenly got up and disappeared out the door.

Finnegin shrugged. "What got into him?"

The door opened up again and their sergeant major looked at them. "Lights out in half an hour. Uban?" One of the female recruits looked at him. "I shouldn't have to say this, no fraternizing after hours." She colored in embarrassment. "Shut it down. I expect everyone to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed come morning."

Steen got up and toweled himself off. He had just enough time to get the fastest shower ever and get into his bunk before the lights dimmed. Two minutes later they went out. Two minutes after that, he was fast asleep.

* * * *

End Chapter:

Do you have the idea that the recruits have no idea what they're getting into? Next up, Steen on the obstacle course, and how is he doing in Medical?


	3. Chapter 3: Working hard

Chap 3

Hey! A new chapter, it's short, sorry. I hope you're liking it. Same disclaimers as the other chapters, and there'll be more soon!

* * * *

The freaked out Army guy left the next morning. No explanation, he just went into Flint's office first thing and they didn't see him again.

The next week went by in a horrifying blur of endless PT, running, being rousted at odd hours, running, eating in a daze of exhaustion, more running. The only sane moments seemed to be his time in the medical bay with the very kind but distant medical officer called by the ever-imaginative codename of "Doc".

After the first few days, he got relaxed enough to comment on the nickname, and was told matter-of-factly that everyone knew the soldiers would end up calling him "Doc" anyway, so they might as well just assign it as his codename. Other than a few bumps and cuts, they hadn't had much in the way of patients while he was on duty.

That was another thing too. Once Doc had gone over his qualifications, he'd given him one shift as a probationary medic, then simply put him on as a full medic and intern. Steen got the feeling that the doctor liked him okay, but was waiting to see if he made the cut before investing any real time and effort into being friends. He seemed like an okay guy, and he gave Steen respect for his training and efforts. When there wasn't anyone for him to treat, he was given the basics on how the place ran, what security measures were in place, what emergency plans there were and what he was expected to do and be, should something other than the norm happen.

Right now though, he wasn't in the quiet, clean, safe medical wards... he was awaiting his turn on the obstacle course. Steen leaned his head back and rotated it on his neck. "Just ten minutes... ten measley minutes.." Right on cue his name was shouted by the insane sergeant major he couldn't please.

"STEEN!! Get on the danged line!" He trotted up to the starting line on the obstacle course. He dreaded this part of his day. He was a medic, not some crazed maniac soldier who needed to leap into battle this way. He had a field pack strapped on, but he was at least spared carrying a rifle the way the rest of the recruits did. "GO GO GO!!"

He sprinted off, hitting the first razor wire crawl and squirming through the dirt quickly. His pack didn't hang up on the wire this time, sparing him the embarrassment of having the irate sergeant having to crawl in underneath to extract him with equal parts cursing and yanking. His elbows and knees scraped against gravel filled dirt this trip, and he wondered if he preferred the cold sticky mud that BeachHead was prone to hide under obstacles, or the dry dirt that gave him more traction, but was unfailingly filled with sharp bits of gravel and twigs. He worried that he was becoming a connoisseur of the various methods BeachHead used to make them as uncomfortable as possible during PT. He also worried that the idea wasn't as crazy-sounding as it would have been only a few short weeks ago. Maybe he should talk to Doc about his own mental state. Maybe he should move faster so he didn't have to run the stupid obstacle course all over again when BeachHead wasn't happy with his times.

Once up, he headed for the mudpit, staggering through knee-deep sludge and trying not to fall over into the muck. There didn't seem to be any submerged tripping ropes this time.. or he was lucky enough to not have hung a leg on any of the them this particular trip through the mud. He still remembered the cursing fit BeachHead had given out when he discovered that Uban had lost her rifle in the mud and gone on without it. He'd gotten into her face and told her if she ever dropped her rifle again, he'd chop off the long blond braid she dragged behind her everywhere and use it to tie the gun to her hands. Steen was relieved that although he carried a pack, at least he didn't carry anything to lose hold of.

Climbing over the upright wall, he missed the first two times he jumped and finally clambered over it. No one was allowed to help each other on most of these runs. He'd gone to BeachHead after hours once to ask if in the field during battle, the Joes never helped each other. Rather than getting screamed at, BeachHead had taken the few minutes to explain that while going through initial training he refused to let soldiers depend on a teammate to make it through. No one could count on someone being there to help them over a wall or through a obstacle out in a real battle. If a soldier on the field needed someone else to get through, he'd slow his teammates down. Two targets were never preferable to one target, with his preference being no targets for the enemy to take out. Later on when the drill instructor was assured that each person could preform to expectations, he would begin allowing team behaviors. Steen had been astounded not only by the reasoning behind the seemingly cruel way of training, but also that BeachHead was patient enough to bother explaining it out to him.

He was puffing and muddy and exhausted by the time he made it to the rope netting. The heavy rope cargo net was hung up between a few poles, draped in a crazy tangle seemingly designed to confuse and hang up errant legs or arms. Steen climbed it easily enough, but the heavy pack overbalanced him as he crossed the top and he hung a foot into the ropes, and then to his horror, he fell. Luckily or unluckily.. he didn't fall far, just a few feet until his tangled leg hung up and made him dangle upside down helplessly.

"STEEN!!! Get down from there!" The extremely annoyed voice of BeachHead easily carried to him. He struggled fruitlessly, his leg becoming more tangled since he couldn't see what way to twist it and his own weight pulled the ropes tight around his knee.

"Oh for pity's sake!" The gruff voice was within a few feet, and the medic turned his face downward to see the sergeant major climbing up to him with ease. "Hold still. Gawd have mercy on me.. I don't know why you're still here.. I really don't." He checked the leg, hanging onto the net and then yanking on various ropes. Then he reached down and grabbed him by the pack's straps, lifting him bodily with no discernible effort at all.

"Sorry sergeant major.." Steen felt himself lifted higher, and then his leg came loose and he grabbed for the ropes to right himself properly. "Sorry."

BeachHead was already halfway down the net. "Don't be sorry, just move your butt." The smaller man dropped to the ground and then stumbled. "Gawd.. are you hurt now too?" The Ranger glared down at him as he straightened his feet out and got upright and moving.

"No sir! I'm fine sir!" He ran off, cursing himself under his breath for calling the sergeant 'sir' yet again. Sometimes he wondered if he subconsciously tried to make the man hate him. Once he crossed the finish line, he stood with the other three in his team, not even daring to look at them.

He was looking at the dirt in front of himself when the tightly laced boots came into view. Lifting his ashamed face up, he gazed into the perturbed eyes. He wished the man would stop wearing the balaclava, he couldn't ever read his expression just looking at his eyes.

"Steen. Stay after everyone is dismissed." He nodded. It wasn't his fault, he was trying to keep up with everyone. He still didn't see why they pushed him so hard in the first place.

"Hey Steen you okay?" He nodded at Finnegin. She was always right up in the top finishers. Despite Uban being the beauty of the two, Finnegin was lean female perfection. Not that Steen thought that BeachHead noticed the beauty of either female, from the amount of volume directed at them regarding how much PT they were able to accomplish. He was concerned with the amount of muscle they sported, and how much work they could put out. Steen stayed too exhausted to worry about any attraction he might have otherwise felt himself. Four of the women had already washed out, with three of them volunteering to leave, and one being tossed out after she complained that there should be a lesser standard for her because she couldn't keep up with 'the men'. BeachHead had calmly pointed out that two of the female recruits were excelling against the men, and then given her the boot.

They were all chased down the fenceline at a run again, harassed from behind the whole way by the diabolical drill instructor. So far, while he couldn't bring himself to hate the man, he was fostering a darned deep dislike of him.

By the time they were allowed to come to a staggering halt, he was gasping for breath and struggling to put one foot in front of the other.

"Fall out!" He leaned back and unsnapped the pack straps, dropping it to the ground and leaning over to brace himself with both hands on his knees. They'd found out the hard way that puking didn't stop the run, nor did it gain them any sympathy. Most of them realized rather quickly that eating after PT was preferable to throwing up a perfectly good meal. "You buncha lightweights.. get that gear up and take your sorry selves off to breakfast. Maybe they got some milk-toast for ya'll to suck on!" Everyone gathered up the packs and gear to head out, and Steen reached to sit his pack upright and then brought himself to attention beside it.

BeachHead stalked his way over to circle him. "Steen. Why are you here?" He looked straight ahead trying not to change expression. "Tell me honestly. Why are you even here?"

"Because I want to serve with the best, where I'm needed the most, sergeant major!" He could feel the man staring at the back of his head and he tried not to twitch away in anticipation of a yell or a blow. He hadn't been beaten yet, it was just stupid holdover from his childhood. He was a grown man, had moved past that.

"At ease." He relaxed. "Steen. Do you want to serve with the best.. or do you want to be the best?"

He looked over at the deep brown eyes staring him down. "Sergeant major? I want to be the best medic I can be. I don't know what more I can do."

"You aren't trying to be the best. You're lollygagging. You're trying to keep up, and trying to pass muster. I haven't seen you push yourself." The sergeant looked downwards at the scuffed up dirt, hands on hips as he seemed to consider serious matters calmly. It was a very different experience than the more normal shouting and berating he'd come to expect. "I've tried yellin' at ya, I've tried explainin' things out, I've tried to just boot you into gear.. where's that 'heart' ya said ya were gonna give me?"

"I've tried as hard as I can. I've run until I threw up.. done PT until my muscles cramped. I can't do any more than I'm already doing. I'm just a medic! I'm not a super-soldier." He suddenly saw a light gleam in the madman's eyes and the accent lessened as he relaxed with some inner thought.

"Ahhh.. and there's the issue. You're not a soldier, you're 'just a medic'. Do you really think that you shouldn't have to be in as good of a condition?"

Steen considered his answer carefully. "Well.. no. Why should I be?"

"I think tomorrow I'll show you. Go get breakfast. Dismissed." The sergeant walked away humming softly to himself and Steen felt a deep deep sense of dread. It was silly to feel any foreboding... BeachHead already made the PT as hard as possible.. what else could he possibly do to make it any worse?

* * * *

END Chapter:

Sorry, we didn't get to SnakeEyes and the hand-to-hand yet. It's upcoming soon. What could BeachHead have planned for Steen? We all know he can always get more evil..


	4. Chapter 4: Hard lessons

Chap 4

Sorry for the short previous chapter. I've SLEPT finally, so here's a nice long chapter.. including BeachHead's reason for glee... AND finally.. the recruits get to hand-to-hand!

Many kudos to Sunflare2k5 !!!! Nearly nailed it on the head in her review! Stay outa my head! It's a dark scary place, inhabited only by ideas that should probably never see the light of day. Seriously, good guess!

A good instructor for a military unit like GI Joe would pretty much be everything to those recruits. He's supposed to train them, not only to be in perfect shape, but also to stay alive, and to fit in, and to interact with their teammates. He's supposed to be there for their doubts, questions, gripes, and everything else. When you see the greenshirts follow BeachHead's every whim, and back him up no matter how smelly or ornery he appears, that's what they do for the guy that's taken care of them so well. Even though he might kill them on the PT course, they realize that he's the one who doesn't want them to die for real on the battlefield. In this fic, it's the new recruits.. not really the greenshirts as much, but it's the same principle. So you should see some of the recruits beginning to look up to the evil drill sergeant as they realize they won't actually die from running that many miles. Even little Steen will learn his lessons, eventually.

SnakeEyes is another really GOOD instructor, although he's gotta appear to be the deadly ninja commando.. he still manages his students so well, they don't even realize how easily they follow what he wants them to do. Not bad for someone who can't even yell at them!

Annnd.. now that you're thoroughly bored... here's the disclaimer.. I have neither right nor responsibility to any of GI Joe, and make no money for my feeble writing efforts. Instead I write these as only homage to the awesomeness of the owners of GI Joe, that they might see our love of the comics, cartoons, movies, and toys, and continue to make all of them, more and more to satisfy our demands!

Here's some fic for you, and as always.. Thank YOU for reading!! A gracious and humble thanks to all the reviewers as well! I LOVE to get reviews, especially ones with suggestions and comments!! I'll have to start thinking of special ficlets to write to send my favorites, and maybe have another quiz question soon! Just as a special thanks to all of you guys!

* * * *

Dragging himself out of bed the next morning, he found his leg a little tender but it loosened up well once he walked out to the PT grounds. BeachHead seemed to watch him closely the first few minutes of PT, then wandered away, losing interest once he was reassured that one of his recruits wasn't injured. Steen had noted that very early on. The sergeant might seem uncaring and brutal, but he always seemed to stop just shy of a breaking point, and never pushed someone who had a legitimate injury. Faking an injury was the best way to get his ire up and then the unfortunate person would catch every bit of hell the drill instructor could fling his way.

Moving to the obstacle course, they broke into teams and waited. BeachHead stood in front of them and brooded. By the time they'd begun to fidget, he suddenly paced over to Steen and looked down at him.

"Since Steen is 'just a medic', I'm going to modify the training for just him. Drop your pack, Steen."

Looking around at his teammates, Steen did as ordered. He sat the heavy pack aside. BeachHead paced off to the side and came back with a different bag and dumped it at his feet.

"There's your field medic kit. That's what you would carry, packed it myself on Doc's recommendations. That's what you're gonna carry. To add to the obstacle course.. I'm gonna show you what you would really be doing. So.." He plucked up a whistle and blew a loud blast on it. "I've arranged for some wounded Joes to be out there. You'll have to go find them, and move them back to here. Don't forget to treat the wounds so they don't bleed out before you drag their sorry butts back here."

Steen heard the distinct sound of screams for help and twitched. He'd heard the real thing before, and honestly these didn't sound all that different, albeit, without the real panic in the tones. One of the further voices seemed almost amused.

His attention was yanked back to BeachHead. "Well? Go get them!" He bent and snatched up the medical pack and rushed off, clambering the wall and dropping the bag over before he followed it. Somehow, seeing the guy laying on the ground with splashes of red dye to denote the injuries brought him into focus and he dropped into place to rip open the pack and dig out field dressings to tie around the leg.

"Hi, I'm your medic.. what's your name?" He was grabbed tightly in a fairly good approximation of a paniced wounded soldier.

"HELP ME!! I'm bleeding!!" The Navy sailor shook him by his arms, pointing at his dye soaked leg and yelling wordlessly in a panic.

"Calm down.. I'm fixing you up, we're gonna get out of here.. You look like a sailor.. what's your name?" He bent and checked the man carefully in a quick rundown of dangerous injuries. Instead of answering him, the sailor continued to clutch at him and shriek in a extremely convincing manner. "Thanks for the theatrics.. very believable.. you're up for an Oscar.. let's get you back to the starting line.." Finishing tying the splint onto the 'injured' leg, he secured his heavy medic bag. Then he bent and lifted the guy up onto his good leg, supporting him and struggling to get him back to the start line. He had to boost him up bodily over the wall, and help him every step, carrying most of the man's weight the entire way.

He was met by BeachHead who flicked his hand at the 'victim' who suddenly regained his ability to walk and strutted off to the side, wiping at the fake blood and grinning at Uban and Finnegin. "Heeeeeeey ladies.."

BeachHead snapped irritably. "Can it Shipwreck! I'm watching ya right here!! Steen! Are you gonna let the other guy bleed out? Go get him!"

He jumped and ran.. sprinting out and moving through the course searching for the other screaming wounded man. By the time he found him, it was nearly the end of the course, and he was stumbling. Feeling a bit bad, he listened to the voice getting hoarse. He felt a huge surge of relief at seeing the slender sandy haired man lying on the ground. He finally collapsed next to the desert trooper covered in fake blood.

"Hey.. hang in there.. gonna get you out.." He sucked in air, trying to focus on the situation. The fake blood was all over the poor sap this time.

"Hey.. I'm unconscious now.. just to let you know." The amused tone made him blink. "I'd help you out, but Beach'll put me on PT until the end of time, sorry." With that the man laid his head down and went limp.

"Oh.. that's great.. thanks BeachHead.. you big jerk.." He finished the vitals check, tied field dressings in place, and splinted a leg marked "broken". "Great.. now I gotta get you back to the starting line.. just wonderful..."

He'd been in firefights.. he'd dragged men to safety. But never at this distance, never more than just to cover. He dragged the trooper by one of his battle harness straps on his shoulder, tugging him along as smoothly as possible. When had he let himself get into such lousy shape? Having been in firefights.. having seen real people injured and bleeding, he knew that if this were real, he'd be losing his patient right now. "Uuuungh.. come on.."

He struggled to move faster and reached the razor wire. Checking his 'patient', he felt a little sorry for the poor volunteer, being hauled around as a body couldn't be much fun. Laying down, he backed under the sharp wire obstacle on his belly, dragging the limp trooper along behind himself. He did see him unhook a bit of his clothing from a piece of razor wire once, giving him a quick thumb's up silently. "Thanks.. don't do me any favors.. it's my job to get you out.." A second silent thumb's up and he was finally out. He looped his arms under the trooper and dragged him further.

He started to get tunnel vision and knew he was slowing down, getting to the end of his endurance. He couldn't get his patient to the starting line. He was going to fail, and in real life that equaled one dead man. He struggled to pull the heavy body just a bit further, pushing himself past his endurance limits, starting to pant for breath..

"Alright.. that's enough of that." At the annoyed drawl, he whirled, dropping his 'patient'.

"Ooomph.. ow.. don't drop the victim!" The limp body protested mildly. "Hey Beach, am I still dying?"

BeachHead glanced down and put one booted foot on the man's chest and pinned him there casually. "Shut it, Dusty. You have a sucking chest wound, you can't talk."

"..got it..." Dusty squeaked out. BeachHead turned his attention back to the exhausted and shaking medic.

"I'm sorry.. I tried.. I really did.. I get it." Steen straightened himself up miserably. "I get it now. You're right, I'm wrong. I just lost a life right here. That's unacceptable. I'm supposed to be their last life line and I just dropped the ball."

"..you also dropped me.. just sayin'..." Dusty made another squeak as Beach leaned on his foot without looking. "..erg.. shutting up now.."

The sharp eyes peered at him, searching out his true shame and feelings of inadequacies. "Do you really get it? Cause if you don't.. it's my guys you're gonna be leaving out on the field to bleed and die. I ain't even introduced you to dodging bullets.. trying to avoid steppin' on landmines.. 'cause if you get hit, you're not only useless to my guys what's wounded on the ground.. you're a liability 'cause I'll have to send some poor guy out to drag your bleeding body off the field too. So." He looked at him intently. "Do you really get it? Or can I just write out a nice polite dismissal?"

Steen looked back at him fiercely. "I get it. Now get your danged foot off my patient." His tone made BeachHead's eyebrows raise, but he stepped backwards. The medic stepped up and looked at his downed man. He reached down and took his wrist and heaved him bodily up onto his shoulders and hefted him into place with a grunt from him as well as from his patient. Then he staggered his way across the course until he reached the start line and set Dusty down onto his feet as carefully as possible.

Dusty rubbed his side. "You got bony shoulders."

Steen rolled his eyes, trying to straighten up as his back protested the abuse he'd put it through. "Well, if this was real, you'd already be unconscious or dead, so you wouldn't mind."

Dusty grinned good-naturedly at him then abruptly fell over to lie on the ground limply as BeachHead stalked up and stared down at him. Steen felt the tongue hanging out was a tad overdone. From the displeased expression on the Ranger's face, he shared the opinion.

"Dusty, once you're over the start line, the exercise is done. You can stop being injured now." When the trooper opened his eyes and grinned, beginning to get up, Beach planted a foot in his chest and pushed him back down. "However.. if I catch you sneaking around the female barracks at two in the danged morning again.. you will really need to be carried to the infirmary... do we understand each other?"

"..yeah.. got it.. " Dusty coughed when the combat boot was removed from his chest. "Can't a guy have a little fun?" He got up and brushed at the sand and dye on his chest.

BeachHead gave an evil grin. "Sure. In fact.. since you're obviously full of energy even late at night when you should be sleeping.. you can have some of my brand of fun.. I expect to see you at 0430 tomorrow morning. We'll go on a nice morning run together, and we'll chat about what sort of fun you're allowed to have."

Dusty groaned but nodded. "Yes sergeant major." He trotted away before he could get into any more trouble, pointedly not looking at either of the women standing with the group.

Beach looked at the group himself, studying them carefully. "Today you'll be starting hand-to-hand in advanced. So far you've been pretty good at passing the grade on weapons and physical training. Now we'll start really weeding out who doesn't belong. Steen here got the only break to show him what he needs to do. The rest of you need to just learn from his example."

"Yes sergeant major!"

He nodded at the crisp reply. "Good. First squad.. GO!" He watched them leap into action, racing across the course and then turned his back to head to the finish, watching them moving through the obstacles as he trotted along.

Steen watched him trotting easily along the course, knowing how much the man had already done for the day.. how many miles he'd run, and he still seemed fresh and ready to put out more. The sergeant major was human too, and if he could do that, then Steen was gonna show him that he could do it too. He was never going to feel helpless to save a man just because he was too exhausted to drag him to safety, not if he could help it.

* * * *

The group of nine recruits stood in front of the smaller gym entrance. The hand lettered sign above the door read "Dojo" with a smaller messy paper taped in place on the door itself reading 'ninjas welcome - others enter at yur own risk'.

The remaining Army guy took a deep breath. "Soo we're all gonna go in now?"

They all nodded, huddled together like children at that one scary house on halloween, all wanting to go on, and none wanting to be the first. But no one reached to open the wide door. Finally Uban gave a soft laugh.

"He can't really be that bad.. like you said.. probably some half-weight sergeant who knows karate." Despite that, they all seemed nervous as Uban opened the door and walked in. They all followed and sighed in relief as they only saw one slender red-headed woman standing on the mats in work-out gear. She looked harmless enough.

"Come in.. drop your gear next to the wall. Line up.." Her sharp tone made them all jump to obey. "Your instructor has been delayed. He and I will share instructor duties, depending on which of us are on base at any given time." Steen gazed appreciably at her as she spoke. Every line of her body was smooth and toned. When she moved, it was with a dangerously contained economy of energy. When she faced him directly, he blinked. "You're Steen, right?" He nodded mutely. "A pacifist?"

"Yes.. ahh..." He stalled out, she wore no rank insignia.

"Sergeant Scarlett." She supplied the rank with a hint of a smile for his awkwardness.

"Yes Sergeant." He was looked over carefully.

She seemed to be considering something, then nodded to herself. "I'll start you off learning how to fall without hurting yourself. That's completely non-offensive, so it's okay, right?" He heard a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "Hope you don't mind getting tossed around a bit."

"No sergeant." He knew she would hear the resignation in his voice, but if she was going to go ahead and beat him up, he might as well show his own disdain for the idea.

She twisted on her heel to face the rest of the class. "So.. which of the real trainees is first? How about you.. " She paused as she matched face with name. "Evan. Step out here."

After nearly half an hour of watching her going through the recruits methodically one by one, sparring with them to find out just how advanced they really were, Steen was startled by the sudden appearance of a tall black clothed figure standing right next to him.

"Whoa!" He jumped and backed up from the man. His face was covered by a cloth mask and visor, also in black, for the sheer intimidation factor he was sure. "Sorry.. didn't see you walk up."

He was given a slow nod. To his surprise, this stranger signed to him using ASL.

*Are you S.t.e.e.n.?* His name was carefully fingerspelled out.

He nodded and tried to sign back. He distinctly heard the frustrated sigh, soft though it was.

*I am not d.e.a.f.*

"Oh.. sorry.. I.. uhh.. Yes, I'm Steen." The stranger nodded at him. "Are you a new recruit too?"

He was given a headshake and then the man walked onto the mat, and Steen got a chill. This guy had to be the scary commando in charge. No harmless person moved like that. Sure enough, he got to the center of the mat and began to sign. Scarlett stepped aside and translated for him in case anyone didn't understand.

*My name is SnakeEyes, I will be your instructor if you are advanced enough. Is there a volunteer for the first sparring session?*

Two of the SEALs stepped up and he motioned for the first one to come onto the mat. Scarlett stepped off and then spoke up. "Whatever form you like, do your best."

Steen watched the match, certain it was going to end poorly. Evan was a beefy well-trained SEAL who'd shown himself to be a bit of a bully. Sparring with the slender redhead hadn't seemed to slow him up that much, although Steen suspected she wasn't really trying to defeat anyone, but taking stock of their abilities instead. The masked commando was much lighter in build, but somehow watching him move when he settled into a casual looking crouch, there wasn't any doubt in his mind as to who the dangerous man was on the mat.

The SEAL grinned and feinted a few times. The commando didn't respond at all, even when he circled to one side a bit, he stayed put, perfectly relaxed and waiting. Evan lunged forward, aiming a punch for the man's head, his other hand headed palm-first for a chest blow. SnakeEyes leaned. Both strikes missed entirely somehow. Steen blinked. The commando had simply leaned.. and Evan was sprawling on the floor, having continued the lunge, completely confident that he'd land one of the two punches.

Scrambling to his feet, Evan snarled at his opponent who still crouched in the same spot. This time the rush stopped short and Evan's leg flew up in a precise strike at SnakeEyes head, flying over it as the man deepened his crouch with such ease that Steen wasn't certain the whole thing wasn't a put-on. Evan was more ready this time, and threw a series of punches as he whirled around from the kick. The masked commando deflected two, backed up half a step from the next one, slipped sideways from the last and then stepped up to strike back in his first offensive move. It slipped past the raised forearm attempting to block him to smack Evan just over his right ear, dropping him to the mat.

Evan came up and shook his head. The slight disorientation was merely a feint and he made a sudden attack, punching and kicking so quickly that Steen backed up a step at the ferocious lunge. He got the feeling that Evan had been holding back to lull the instructor into complacency, and was equally certain that the instructor hadn't been fooled for a second. Not one blow was landing, instead each was deflected or ducked or dodged easily. When Evan faltered, his attack failing badly, SnakeEyes suddenly moved on him, slipping around to the side, while weaving between blows. Two kicks to the ribs, one to the thigh, and then one black-clad arm slipped around, a foot somehow hooked a knee and Evan dropped to the mat, pinned helplessly.

"Enough.. " His gasping voice sounded strained, and with his neck at the angle it was, Steen was surprised he could get anything out at all.

SnakeEyes unwound himself as quickly as he'd put the hold onto him and was standing casually as the SEAL clambered to his feet, breathing hard. The commando signed fluidly. *Not bad. You will stay in the advanced class.*

He motioned to the next, and Steen watched him go through nearly the same routine with each recruit. Only the first SEAL and Uban were pronounced good enough to stay in advanced. Finnegin was barely passing, and everyone else was given no particular comment. When that hidden gaze fastened on him, Steen gulped. He was motioned onto the mat and he went, albeit unwillingly.

"I'm a p-pacifist.. I won't fight you."

SnakeEyes tilted his head and then lunged at him, striking out with a flattened palm. Steen jerked away but was struck anyway, a sharp pain in his ribcage where it landed. A knee impacted into his chest next, knocking him backwards, another punch into his upper thigh and he collapsed. Instead of hitting the mat, he felt his shirt grabbed and held, and opened his clenched-shut eyes, lowering his arms from his face to find himself held only inches off the mat. SnakeEyes lifted him back onto his feet and turned him loose.

*You really are a pacifist* The commando seemed a little surprised that he hadn't made a single move to defend himself.

He nodded, hoping he hadn't just wet his pants. It was rather like being toyed with by a large cat. He just hoped he wouldn't be killed too messily.

*I will think about what you can learn.* A soft sigh reached the medic's ears as the sheer frustration of trying to teach a total pacifist to stay safe in the middle of a fight occurred to the hand-to-hand instructor.

Steen nodded to that as well, wishing he wasn't quite as much trouble as he was obviously turning out to be. SnakeEyes tilted his head slightly.

*Scarlett will teach you how to fall without breaking anything major. Learn that first.* He was motioned off the mat, and went gratefully, holding one hand over his ribs. He wasn't too beaten up, considering how hard everyone else had been hit, he suspected that he'd been merely smacked and tossed around. With three blows, he'd been completely disoriented and gone down. Somehow it seemed so much easier watching other people take hits and still fight. Uban was pummeled unmercifully, tossed to the side and landed, popped up and continued without much pause. He began to watch to see how they dealt with taking a punch or kick, and how they fell to avoid injury. If he had to come be beaten up each day, at least he could learn to dodge and duck better.

Scarlett came up to him while he was watching. "Having second thoughts about that whole pacifist thing?"

He shook his head while still keeping his gaze on the two currently on the mat. SnakeEyes was gliding circles around the SEAL, somehow avoiding every strike and kick, while dealing out blows with ease.

"No, of course not. I was watching to see how they keep from being hit. I don't want to hit anyone.. but I wouldn't mind knowing how Sergeant SnakeEyes dodges so well. Is that something I could learn? Without the punching and kicking parts?"

She laughed, a genuine hearty laugh that sounded more like she was laughing with him, sharing a joke, rather than laughing at him and making fun. "Yes.. sure. All you need is a decade to spend learning to be a ninja master, and the natural ability to be the best commando ever seen in the world. Once you have that, you're in like Flynn."

He grinned at her. "Okay.. how about just learning how to fall down without breaking my own neck?"

"That I believe I can help you with." And she did. Scarlett told him what to do, then helpfully threw him to the floor, where he either hit with a loud thud, or sprawled like a discarded rag. He fell down so many times that he was certain the mats were going to have a permanent Steen imprint. Finally he just stayed down there, panting and dizzy. Scarlett's face leaned over him. "Had enough for today?"

"Yes sergeant."

She offered him a hand up, and he half expected her to toss him down again. The instructors all seemed fond of putting them at ease only to yank the rug out from under them again just to prove a point.

"Alright. SnakeEyes has said he has a few ideas for you. I'm certain he'll go over them with you at some point. Until we find out what he has planned, you'll just learn to fall correctly, and then how to fall so you can get away, rather than just lie there and get stepped on. A squashed medic won't be any use to us."

He nodded, and then faced SnakeEyes in the center of the mat with the rest of the recruits. They all gave him a slight bow, and he left, stalking out with that same grace and power that announced who the alpha dog was in the room.

Scarlett's amused voice caught their attention. "Okay, so that was your advanced instructor. Any of you that wish to learn ASL that don't already know it, please see me or Stalker at some point. We'll arrange time for you to learn. SnakeEyes will sign or write notes or just kick you in the head until you figure out what he wants.. just to let you know. He doesn't talk, but he has the sharpest ears in the Pit, so believe me, you don't want to talk about him, unless it's something you don't mind him hearing. Any questions?"

Finnegin raised her hand and was nodded at. "Will we ever get that good?"

Scarlett gave a sardonic grin. "No. You won't. Any other questions?"

Steen hesitated but raised his hand. Scarlett nodded at him. "Why does he go masked?"

She took a deep breath. "He has severe facial scarring. It's common knowledge in the Pit. It's also not particularly something anyone has any burning need to discuss. Understood?"

They all agreed. Then Evan spoke up. "Is it true what they say about him.. being.. a you know.. ninja?"

Steen snorted loudly before he could stop himself. He composed his face to a bland non-expression immediately. Scarlett had reacquired the sardonic grin.

"Yes. He's a master ninja. We also have a ninja apprentice, just so you're aware. There's almost always at least one ninja on base, sneaking around and dropping behind you at random for the fun of terrifying you out of your wits. Don't worry though, they almost never stick any sharp objects into friendlies."

Steen swallowed a few times dryly, pretty sure that she was mostly joking. He hoped so anyway. Bad enough to see the 'ninja' right in front of them on the practice mat, it was another deal entirely to be told there were two roaming around at any given time.

"If that is all, you're dismissed." She watched the group leave, making them feel like they'd been evaluated and found wanting.

They all filed out, murmuring among themselves. About half of them were limping, himself included.

"Hey Steen.." He turned to Finnegin. "Steen, we're headed to weapons training. See you at dinner?" He smiled and nodded. "Good thing you're headed to the infirmary anyway, you look like you need a trip there!"

He gave a rueful laugh. "Yeah.. I think I do. Getting thrown around, even by a beautiful woman, isn't my idea of a good time." He rubbed his elbow, he seemed to have an affinity for landing on it, no matter how many times he'd been corrected by the tall redhead.

She shook a finger at him in a mock warning. "Well, if you won't fight back, there'll be bound to be ladies perfectly willing to take advantage of you. Better watch yourself!" He knew he blushed and cursed himself for doing it. She merely laughed at his embarrassment and walked the opposite direction. Her self-confidant stride made him feel totally inadequate. He was absolutely certain that every woman on earth had instructions to make him feel like a small child unable to brush his own teeth, much less have a coherent conversation with the opposite sex. Other guys probably never felt that way, it was just him. He'd go to the medical section, where he knew what he was doing.

* * * *

END Chapter.

Well, that was Steen's new obstacle course. He won't have to rescue live victims every time, but it certainly seemed to bring home to him how HIS failings will cause other people to suffer and possibly die.

They also all finally got to set eyes on the scary ninja.. really? A ninja? Naw... ninja's aren't real.. it's just a scary commando.. yeah.. yeah. They'll keep telling themselves that for now

I hope you're continuing to enjoy this!


	5. Chapter 5: First Patient

Chapter 5

Well, here's a updated chapter! Steen actually gets to treat someone in the infirmary. Unfortunately, it's BeachHead.

A note: I had a power outage which caused a computer glitch and I lost over half on this fic. It was at about 40K+ words written, and about half was lost permanently. So, with this discouragement, I'll be trying to salvage it, but I'm tempted to trash the entire thing. Large sections were taken out in spots and most of two chapters were gone entirely. So keep your fingers crossed that I don't lose it and decide to just stab it all into the trash bin.

Usual disclaimers, I don't own any rights to GI Joe, I just adore the universe and characters. Duke is a lieutenant in my fics, I already know that's not canon. I gave him a promotion to give a clearer command structure. In some of the later comics, Duke's actual rank is vague, since the Joe team was restructured. Shrug. Deal.

And here's the chapter! If I continue the story instead of my head exploding, I'll hope to post longer chapters soon. Thank you all for reading!

* * * *

Down in the quiet infirmary, Steen was stocking the field medic bags that traveled in transports and with squads when the familiar southern accent caught his attention. He rushed to the front of the medical bay just as BeachHead walked in holding his left arm tightly to his side.

"Hey Steen.. where's Doc?" The sergeant was in obvious pain and trying to hide it. The slight glaze to his eyes and the stiffness in every cell in his body told the medic more than anything else.

"Doc is out.. what's wrong?" He reached to guide the stocky man to an exam room, ignoring the way he twitched aside from his hand. "Here.. sit down.. let me see."

Although the Ranger sat down on the exam table, he appeared reluctant to let Steen check his injury. "Dang it.. Doc usually fixes me up.. I dislocated my shoulder, can't use my arm. Need him to put it back in." BeachHead peered past him, as if he somehow hoped Steen was lying and Doc would appear.

Trying to appear capable and confident, Steen carefully reached out to touch the affected shoulder. "I can relocate a shoulder joint.. but first we just need to examine it really quickly. Get some x-rays and stuff." He tugged at the clasps on the side of the body armor. "Let me get your flak jacket off.."

He was treated to a irritated glare from under that cloth mask. "It's a tactical vest, and you don't get it off by messing with the adjusting straps." Steen turned loose as his hands were swatted away. "I'd rather have Doc do it." BeachHead tugged the side straps tight again, using his good hand while the other lay across his lap uselessly.

Now the medic was struggling to keep a calm expression on his face. He wasn't used to patients that refused to be helped. "Well, Doc isn't here, and I am. How did you get hurt?" Steen watched the fastener on the front of the vest get undone, memorizing so if he ever needed to get someone out of similar armor he could. He took the vest and tossed it aside, already tugging the thick shirt up over the heavily muscled torso. If BeachHead wouldn't agree to be treated, at least he could get a look at the shoulder, and continue encouraging him to allow himself to be treated. Sometimes a medic just needed to stubbornly ignore what a patient said and go on with the treatment. If he could get the gear stripped off, he could check the arm out.

"Hey.. get off me.. what are ya doin?" BeachHead did a credible job of interfering, but the medic had the sweater half off before he could object much. The sweat-damp folds of cloth clung, but the medic had it pulled off over his back, making the sergeant major duck his head out of the neckhole. "I fell off the incline ramp. Loose board at the top I was fixin' and didn't notice in time, the one I was standing on popped loose too." He twisted and pulled his good arm out of the sleeve then hissed in pain as Steen carefully began to peel it off the injured limb. He stopped long enough to tug the green balaclava off his head before he could object. "Hey.. that's my mask there.."

Steen ignored the mild objections, and continued to peel the snug sleeve down over the heavily muscled arm. "I should just cut it off.."

He heard a low growl at that suggestion. "Cut off my arm or the sweater? Either way, the answer is no. Just pull it off. I just need you to put the danged arm back into socket. I landed on it hard.. popped it out." Steen was rather happy to note that now 'he' was supposed to treat the sergeant, rather than his original insistence that Doc be the one doing it. He finally got the sleeve removed and Beach hissed as the medic began to feel around the misshapen shoulder joint. "Ow.. dang it.. just put it back."

Now that he had him half-undressed and agreeable to being treated, Steen took the time to check his eyes, noting that the pupils were reactive and clear. "I don't know that you didn't break your shoulder or collarbone. Did you fall off the end of the obstacle straight to the ground? Or did you tumble down the incline?" Steen put on his stethoscope to listen carefully to the deep breaths the man took almost automatically when the cold metal touched his chest, obviously no stranger to getting treated by medical personnel. He tried not to stare at the amount of scars revealed on the fair skin. The sergeant was covered in pocks and slices, some showing stitch pecks along their length. Others were simply ragged, showing to his experienced eyes that they had not been properly treated.

"I fell off the end, landed on this shoulder and my back. I'm fine.. it's just popped out of socket. Doc could put it back." Beach sounded irritable, which was understandable, seeing as part of his body was not working at all. He glowered at the slender man who felt his neck carefully. The muscles along the join of shoulder and neck were tensed up hard, making it difficult to tell if there were any injury to his spine. "It's my shoulder, not my neck."

"You don't know that.. you could have a fracture in your neck.." Steen wondered briefly if he would be able to get a neck brace on the man, or if that would just lead to him being pummeled.

"I DO know it, my shoulder hurts like the blazes, and my neck feels fine! Just fix it if you can, or give Doc a call to come in." Beach's voice rose slightly, becoming irritated that his injury wasn't already fixed so he could leave.

Steen stepped back and glared, time to show his patient that he didn't have a choice in getting treated. "Now look. You're the drill instructor. But I'm the medic. Do you have medical training? No! You've taken a bad fall, and you could be at risk of fractured vertebrae, a concussion, a broken shoulder, you could have broken your collarbone.. you need to lie down, and let us get some x-rays. I'll give you something for pain.. and it'll just take a few hours. We'll keep you overnight.."

BeachHead finally exploded. "Overnight?!? Are you NUTS? Look you useless little pacifist, don't try to be some class A doctor! Either put my danged shoulder back into joint, or get outa my way, and I'll just slam it back using the door frame." He shifted forward on the table, obviously of a mind to just attempt the ill-thought-out self-treatment anyway, despite the medic in his way.

Steen felt himself stiffen up. "Fine. You want it back into place? Fine." He could put it back into place, without the x-rays, or pain killers. It would just hurt a lot and then the sergeant major would understand how things worked in Medical. He grabbed up his chart, helpfully supplied by one of the nurses who had automatically retrieved it and placed it onto the foot of the gurney. "You're not allergic to any medications.. so here." He plucked up a tiny bottle to draw liquid out. "Hold still so I can inject your shoulder."

BeachHead started to pull away, frowning at the needle as if it would leap up and attack him. "I told you I don't need any pain meds!" Steen began to feel delicately along the muscles. "I don't.."

"It's not for pain. It's a muscle relaxer so the muscles that are spasmed will relax so I can put the arm back in place." He found the spot he wanted on the shoulder muscle, slipped the needle into place and injected the drug. Holding the spot tightly for a second, he felt the arm to see if he could notice any loosening of the muscles. "I'm sure I can find a stick for you to bite on when I do it. Or would you prefer a bullet? I'm told John Wayne preferred bullets." His snippy sarcasm seemed to startle the burly Ranger. "Now.. " He reached to grasp Beach's upper arm and jiggled it slightly. He ignored the gasp of pain. "Give it a minute to start working." He reached to feel along the line of the collarbone. "It doesn't feel broken, but it doesn't mean you don't have fractures we can't feel yet. You should have x-rays."

"I don't need a bunch of tests." The sergeant gritted his teeth as the medic jiggled his arm more. "Gawd!!"

"You're the one who doesn't want to do this the right way. Hold still." Steen grasped the upper arm and the wrist in his hands and lifted and twisted, moving the forearm outwards carefully and trying to slip it back into socket. "Ahh..." He moved it further as it resisted his efforts. He ignored the squawk of pain. If BeachHead wanted to do this the hard way, he'd do it the hard way. The arm resisted sliding back into place with the spasmed muscles interfering. Finally he let the arm back down. "Your muscles are spasmed and keeping the arm bone out of place.. just give me a minute." He walked his fingers along the bunched muscles along the shoulder plane. "Don't you dare hit me either.. this WILL hurt." Finding the right spot, he pressed the tips of his fingers in hard, forcing the clenched muscles to relax. His practiced fingertips worked into the muscle mass, a effective massaging motion causing the spasms to release. "There.."

"GAWD!!! Aaahh... get off me!" Beach let out a stream of cursing so inventive that Steen was momentarily distracted.

"Well, I tried to get you to take pain meds." He reached to take the arm again, twisting and watching the joint sliding upwards slowly. Beach turned slightly sideways and the medic gritted his teeth. "Don't move! Just.. hold.. still." There was a loud CLACK and the shoulder suddenly looked more normal. "There.. " He folded the forearm across his chest. "Hold that arm still for a second." Checking the joint with his fingers wasn't as good as an x-ray, but it would suffice. "It's back in place."

He turned his head to look as he heard a strange voice.

"Hey Beach.. did someone take a potshot at you?" There was Duke and the warrant officer that had first greeted his group at the plane.

Beach snorted at them, seemingly unconcerned that they were observing his treatment. "Naw.. I just dislocated my shoulder. The incline wall needs some repairs."

The warrant office.. his name was Flint if he remembered correctly, gave a short mirthless laugh. "Well, did you get injured cause it was broke, or did it get broke cause you lost your temper after you got injured?"

The sergeant major snorted disdainfully at him, dismissing his comment. "Ha ha Flint. There's some loose boards on the top of the A-frame, and I slipped off one and fell. Lucky for me we got this new medic to fix it. He argues a lot, but he put my arm back in place." Steen rolled his eyes and started to loop a sling around his neck. "Whoa.. what's that for?"

Steen peered at him in confusion. "Sorry, did you want help putting your sweater back on first? The sling will need to go on the outside of your clothing.."

"I'm not wearing a sling, that's useless. Gimme my sweater." BeachHead reached downward and grunted in pain.

Steen picked up the sweater, and tried not to inhale near it. If Beach reeked, he'd found out the source of the motherload of odor. "Man... you ever try washing this thing?"

"Very funny.. it was clean this morning. Just let me put it on.. I'll get out of your hair." To Steen's amazement, he managed to get the thing on, twisting his head through the neckhole and tucking the bad arm through with several grunts of pain. Where's my mask?" The medic handed it over and he tucked it into a pocket. "Vest."

Steen sighed and picked up the tactical vest. "You know.. a 'please' works wonders." He received a cold unamused stare and held up the vest silently. Beach tucked the bad arm through, then used his good arm to slip it the rest of the way on. "I don't think you really need to wear body armor down here in the Pit."

BeachHead wasn't paying attention to his concerns any longer. "I won't be IN the Pit. I still gotta finish that repair." His patient was already sliding off the table and fumbling at the front fastener one-handed. "Duke, zip me up here."

Duke shook his head and worked the fastener to close up the front of the vest for him. "Beach, get one of the greenshirts to do the repair." The blue eyes seemed more amused than the serious medical situation warranted in Steen's opinion.

BeachHead grunted at him in a noncommittal way. Steen held out the sling again. "Put this on. You're not leaving without it." He couldn't very well stop the larger man from leaving the infirmary, but he could do his best to make sure he didn't come right back with the same injury.

Now the sergeant turned a full glare on him. "Look.. I know you think that you're the authority on how I'm gonna behave because I'm in the medical section here... but you're wrong. So how about you take back your little slingy thing.." He tossed it back at Steen who caught it out of reflex. ".. and leave me alone? I got a lotta work to do."

Steen suddenly stepped close to stare up into the grumpy face, exposed for his perusal without the ever-present mask. "Listen to me. You need to keep it in the sling. Even if you use the arm, which you should NOT do.. you need to keep it supported for at least the first forty-eight hours. You can use it, then let it rest in the sling when you don't need to be using it. You should keep it in a sling and NOT use it at all until it's properly healed." He held out no hope that the stubborn man wouldn't use the injured arm anyway, but if he could get him to keep it properly supported, at least it would have a chance to heal.

Beach snorted disdainfully at his comments. "I don't need a sling.. it'll be fine."

Steen gritted his teeth and counted to ten. "Sergeant major.. you're the one that's been saying that we think of the team first. Well, doing stupid stuff that could weaken the limb later on when you need it is just stupid, and if it suddenly pops back out because you overstrained it instead of letting it heal correctly.. it's gonna be your own fault. Even if it happens in the middle of a battle because you dove for cover. Understand?"

Beach stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Alright." He plucked up the sling and put it on, settling the arm into it gingerly. Holding out his good arm, he raised his eyebrows. "Happy?"

"Terribly happy. Will you stay long enough to get x-rays now?"

Steen was laughed at and watched the tough Ranger walking down the hallway. "He's stubborn. But he's hurt.. I'll worry about him until that arm heals up properly."

Flint grunted. "Aww. don't worry about Beach. He's a real tough guy. Heck.. Duke and I once knocked him out with a 2x4 board. He woke up just fine. Grumpy.. but he was fine. Wasn't he, Duke? Tell him."

The tall crewcut blond nodded blandly at the medic. "Yup, he woke up just fine.. maybe a little headache, but you know.. we used a pretty big 2x4."

Steen stared at him in utter shock. "What?! Why would you do that? Why would you knock out one of your teammates?"

Flint suddenly looked at Duke in confusion. "Uhh.. I don't remember.. why DID we knock Beach out with a board?"

Duke smiled a little. "I'm sure it made sense at the time."

Steen shook his head at them both. "Everyone here is insane."

"Probably."

* * * *

End Chapter:

Ahh.. the joys of treating GI Joe team members. At least it wasn't a ninja... yet.

Again, I hope to salvage the rest of the fic. At any rate, I hope that you have enjoyed the story so far!


	6. Chapter 6: Intolerance

Chapter 6

Okay.. so I wrote over 12K words on Christmas Eve day, on another fic. So now that I'm in a better mood, I will do my best to continue this Lifeline fic as well.

Not everyone is happy having a pacifist training to be a Joe. Will Steen fight back to save himself?

Thank you to everyone for the encouraging words, and for continuing to read! Now read the chapter. It's even a longer chapter!

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Steen was finally feeling like he was progressing. Once he stopped trying to keep up and started trying to push himself as hard as possible, he found his previous best times and best weights falling aside.

BeachHead began to lay off of him somewhat, watching mainly to point out a different exercise, more of a run, or when to add a little more weight on his bar. Instead he started focusing on some of the others, citing him as an example. This wasn't making him popular. He tried not to care, just concentrating on pushing harder.

The first PT session after treating BeachHead's shoulder, he trotted out onto the grass struggling to blink the sleep out of his eyes, and found the scowling man waiting on them, complete with sling holding his bad arm up. His glowering stare forbade anyone to make a comment or ask what happened. Steen, bound by traditional doctor/patient rules couldn't say anything. So all the recruits made up their own stories.

Then there finally came the fall-out for his being different.

Tired from a day of hauling all of the gurneys and beds around for cleaning, after running the obstacle course, with live victims, three times, and then running laps until he literally fell down and twitched, Steen had taken his shower, and gotten dressed in sweat pants and his old familiar hoodie. Instead of staying in the rec room for the evening, where he normally read a book, or worked out on the weights, or even played chess with Uban(of all people, why anyone would believe a blond bombshell who was a potential sniper infantryman would be a killer chess player was beyond him!), he had decided that going directly to his bunk was a grand idea. His legs felt weak from all the extra work. BeachHead had been exceptionally annoyed at using the sling on his bad arm and seemingly blamed Steen entirely. He knew better than to protest too. A trainee never ever questioned whether BeachHead was being 'fair' in the amount of work. Not more than once, unless they were just really fond of digging the next mudpit with a plastic spork all by themselves.

The lights in the barracks were still on, but he was used to that. He'd just pull his blanket over his head. Kneeling next to his footlocker, he searched for the liniment that he kept for sore muscles. The stuff smelled like cinnamon, which set BeachHead off one morning.. something about recruits smelling like breakfast breads.. Steen shook his head. Two of the other guys had asked to borrow it anyway, since it worked so well.

"What's the matter Steen.. headed to beddy-bye early again?"

He turned to see two of the SEAL trainees coming in. Mack and Phillips were both rather generic in build and abilities. They stayed right in the middle of the range of trainees, not overly good at anything, not bad at anything. Both of them had gotten thumped by the women for making lewd comments, and never seemed to have much good to say about any of their fellow trainees.

He gave them an affable smile anyway. They were his teammates. "Hey guys. Yeah.. today was a long rough day and I'm exhausted. All the extra work is starting to pay off though, so that's good." He leaned back over his locker, going back to rummaging fruitlessly for the ointment. "Good night of sleep will put me right."

"Well..." Mack had stepped up next to him, crossing his arms and staring down with a disturbing sneer. "I think that maybe you just can't hack it. I think you're taking up valuable space and time, when you need to just take your useless butt outa here, so the rest of us don't get dragged down with you." Phillips gave a soft snort of agreement.

Steen sighed to himself, shutting his locker after giving up on his liniment and quiet evening. He knew they would pick on him, it always happened sooner or later. Once they verbally harassed him, they could strut off, and he could get his sleep. "I think that if I can't hack it, Sergeant major will boot me out. So if you're certain I won't make it, you can just wait a while longer until he shares your opinion, and be gleeful when he proves you right by washing me out. Right?"

He wasn't at all prepared for the hand that grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his head into the lid of the army footlocker. Stunned, he was dragged sideway and yanked to his feet by the tight painful grip. "Oh, I think we can hasten your leaving along for Sergeant major..." He reached up, trying to get his fingers under the hand gripping his neck from behind. Prying at the grip did him no good, and now Mack was in front of him grinning in a nasty manner.

"Please..." He struggled fruitlessly. "I don't want any trouble.. I'm just.."

Mack hit him. Simple enough thing to have happen, they hit lots of things every day.. punching bags, sparring partners, walls, the bed.. and skinny annoying medics. His breath whooshed out as the heavy fist connected with his solar plexus, driving all his air out and threatening to double him over. Phillips' grip on his neck yanked him back upright so that his buddy could hit him a few more times, centering the blows on the ribs low on his sides. Those were floating ribs, and harder to break in reality, often dislocated due to being stomped on, but rarely actually broken in fist fights. Could he call it a fist fight if only one side was hitting?

"Sergeant major won't throw you out, but I'm guessing you could be convinced to just up and quit.. ain't that right Steen? Hmm? You gonna quit?" Phillips' voice in his ear made him shiver. "You're gonna go in tomorrow morning, and you're gonna tell BeachHead that you can't cut it, and that you want out. Right?"

He set his teeth and tried to shake his head. "No. No I'm not!" He jerked himself hard, trying to get loose from the iron hand wrapped around the tendons of his neck. "Let me go!"

"Let him go, Phillips.." Mack's even tone surprised Steen. The other SEAL turned loose and the smaller man staggered forward. His sudden release made him reach up to touch his bruised neck. "Can't kick him nearly as well..." Mack's foot connected painfully with one thigh, right into the upper muscle.. spasms erupted and he fell to the floor with a strangled cry of pain. Sparring was nothing at all compared to getting beaten up, he'd nearly forgotten how much he really really hated getting beaten up. "Now.. on the floor.. so much easier.." Heavy boots smashed into him a few times as he struggled to crawl. They concentrated on kicking his stomach and legs, avoiding the face entirely. He'd think it was a kindness on their part, if he didn't know bully tactics to stay unnoticed. People saw black eyes and split lips.. they didn't see bruises on someone's legs or ribs.

He curled up and tried to protect himself as best he could. Years of experience of being beaten up by various bullies made the movements automatic. It didn't dull the pain of the blows. It didn't make him any less scared.

"What the heck is going on in here!" Evan's voice shouted across the barracks and the kicks stopped. "Get off him! Are you crazy!?" Steen peered from behind his raised hands as Evan threw his bulk onto Mack and drove him across the floor. Phillips grappled on him from behind, trying to pull him away from his friend.

"Get off Mack! We're just teaching this pansy a lesson!" Evan swung one elbow back into Phillips face, busting his lip open and sending him staggering to the side. Steen struggled to get to his feet to stop them from fighting but stumbled and fell over twice before he gained his feet.

He grabbed onto one of Evan's arms where he was pummeling Mack. To his credit, the SEAL was giving back just as many punches as he was taking. "Evan, stop!" He was shoved aside, running into Phillips as he headed back in. Both of them went down in a tangle. The medic was booted aside once the beefy trooper gained his feet. He started for Evan again but stopped immediately when the bellow came from the doorway.

"WHAT INNA SEVEN HELLS ARE YA DOIN!?!"

Steen almost lost control of his bladder. Sure.. Sergeant major yelled a lot.. but that wasn't just a 'I'm mildly annoyed' yell. This was a 'someone was about to have major parts removed in a painful way', and he was simply hoping it wasn't going to be him. When the tough Ranger strode in, slung arm and all, everyone scattered to remote locations in the room. That seemed to annoy him even further.

"GET UP HERE! Form up! NOW!!!!!" All four men jumped to obey, Steen managing to limp up to the end of the line, trying not to shake too visibly. He hazarded just a quick glance and say to his relief that the other three were quivering as well. "You have FIVE danged seconds to explain before I take the whole LOTTA YA OUTSIDE!!!" Steen didn't quite hold back a squeak of terror which focused the attention on him. "STEEN!"

He looked up at the fierce gaze. "Yes sir!?!"

He swore at that very second he was going to die, saw his whole life flash before his eyes, ending with the insane thought that he'd believed the life-flashing thing to be untrue until this very moment in time. The look that crossed the sergeant major's face was pure murder.

"STOP CALLING ME SIR!" He leaned over the hapless smaller man who considered fainting.. he was certain BeachHead wouldn't murder him if he was unconscious.. what fun would there be in killing someone who wasn't screaming? "What happened here?!"

"S-s-s-sorry s-s-s-sergeant m-major.." He swallowed twice, trying to get his tongue to behave. "It w-w-was a m-m-misunderstanding.."

Risking decapitation, Evan spoke up. "No sergeant major!! These two mokes were beating the crud outa Steen! No way was I letting them beat him up! You can write me up for fighting Sergeant major, but I ain't letting them go beating up Steen! No way!" Steen began to breathe again as the gaze left him and focused with laser intensity on Evan instead.

Twisting his head first, and then smoothly following after with the rest of his bulk, the Ranger glided over to his new target. He seemed twice as large as normal, and Steen mentally compared it to a cat puffing up when angry. Maybe it was that every muscle on the man was bunched up with anger. He focused again when the anger became speech in the thick Alabama accent.

"Yew jus' HAD ta jump inna fight.. on accounta it was STEEN?! Maybe yew wanna 'splain that ta me? Jus' why would yew be jumpin' up to help him?" Sergeant major had leaned in with every syllable, until his face was dangerously close to Evan's nose. Steen waited for him to actually bite the young man in the face with a sense of fascination. Would he actually remove the nose with a chomp? Could he even bite through the facemask? Or would he yank the cloth down just before he bit him?

Evan's jaw trembled and he had to take a breath before he could reply. "I don't hold with bullies picking on someone who can't fight back, Sergeant major." He took a second breath. "You can wash me out, but I'm not letting it happen. Not if I can help it." He stood stock still while BeachHead's eyes narrowed. Steen saw to his astonishment that the muscles relaxed just a tiny amount and he backed up a second later, turning his hard eyes to the two other participants.

Stepped over, he looked at the two of them. "Mack.. report." He waited, the glinting eyes telling them he wouldn't hesitate to snap the neck of the first liar he caught. Mack had to sense it because he shifted his weight to the side slightly, making the gaze narrow and pin him harder. "AH SAID REPORT, YEW MAGGOT! DO YEW NEED NEW GOL'DANGED EARS!?"

"NO SERGEANT!" Mack froze and then clenched his jaw. "I figured we'd make Steen quit, sergeant major! We don't need him here, he's useless, you said it yourself!"

BeachHead looked at Phillips. "How 'bout yew? Report!"

Phillips had slightly more time to compose himself. "Yes Sergeant major! We thought we'd spare you the trouble of washing him out and get him to quit. He won't fight, he won't do anything to be useful, we wanted to get rid of him!"

Steen froze in place as the eyes fastened on him again. BeachHead stalked over to in front of him. "Steen. This true? Did they try beating on ya to make ya leave?"

He nodded mutely trying to keep his eyes staring ahead. BeachHead seemed to chew at his tongue a second before he walked to in front of the two SEALs.

"Alright. First.. no one.. NO ONE washes no recruit outa Joe team but ME! Ya wanna go taking over MAH job.. yew better go 'bout inna MUCH bettah way." He took a very deep breath and let it out, obviously calming himself. The accent lessened when he spoke again. "Secondly. I won't put up with bullies of any nature, no matter what kind of excuse they give me. You knew he wouldn't fight back. You chose to beat him senseless, knowing he was a helpless victim. You'd have done better to gang up on one of the girls.. at least THEY would fight back. Probably win against a couple of pogues like you two. You're gone. Out of here."

Phillips spoke up first. "You can't do that! We're TWICE the soldier he is! He's USELESS!"

BeachHead swung around and walked forward, his chest shoving the younger man across the room as he got into his face, right up until Phillips' back hit the barracks wall. "Let me tell you something you useless piece of gutless snot. You're NO kind of soldier! He's the guy who would have risked his life to save yours! He's the guy who was gonna run out on a battlefield UNARMED to pick your sorry bleeding crying body up and haul you back to safety just because you got shot. And now that you show yourself to be a sorry sack of snot, you're gonna try to blame him.. blame his choices for you showing your true colors. Cause you're a wash out.. if I knew what sort of cowardly scum you were when I looked at your file, I'd have thrown it into the garbage to begin with!"

He stepped back and stalked past Mack. "Get your stuff packed. Now! Right now! You're not staying in my danged barracks for ONE MORE NIGHT! Get it packed up! NOW!"

Steen wasn't quite certain which of the SEALs had jumped to attack the sergeant first. But both of them made loud thumps when they landed on their backs on the floor. Steen was pretty certain Sergeant major had kicked Mack in the head, and Steen knew the Ranger had grabbed Phillips and yanked him into a wicked headbutt. He still wasn't certain however, how one drill instructor managed to do both things at once. Jumping Sergeant major.. even if he had one bad arm in a sling, was just about the stupidest thing he'd ever seen attempted. And he'd been though BASIC and on several bases stationed with bored Army grunts.. he'd seen a LOT of really stupid things.

BeachHead grunted in disgust at them both. "Mack.. get your junk. Get up!" He booted the man in one thigh hard. "Now dang it!" He looked over the unconscious Phillips and snorted. "Evan.. get Phillips' stuff shoved into a ditty bag. He'll wake up in a minute." Evan didn't argue, showing his truly superior intellect.. or perhaps just a healthy sense of survival. He rolled up the few pieces of clothing hung on the closet rod and tucked loose items in quickly. Tying the top shut securely, he set it upright on the floor beside Phillips' bunk and stood at attention.

By this time, Phillips was groaning and rolling around the floor. "Get up, you piece of snot." BeachHead's boot connected solidly and seemed to help focus the SEAL's attention. "Ya want to go a couple more rounds? I'll wait for you to recover a few more minutes." He looked at Mack. "How about you? You wanna go a few rounds with me? We'll do it afore he finishes waking up."

Mack shook his head frantically. "No Sergeant major. Sorry Sergeant major.. temporary insanity on my part. Bad influences in my upbringing." BeachHead almost appeared disappointed and flexed his bad arm, shifting it around in the sling. Steen stood very still and hoped he wouldn't focus on him. For the moment, he walked to Evan.

"You. While your defendin' of our dumb little medic is admirable, it was also stupid. Next time something needs to be taken care of, you come get me. You don't start a fistfight in my barracks, or you'll be tossed on a plane outa here so fast it'll make your mother's head spin. You get me?!"

"YES SERGEANT MAJOR!" Evan stared directly ahead, unflinching and immobile. BeachHead waited a few seconds and then turned to give Phillips another boot.

His tone was still highly unamused. "You gettin' up, or do I gotta drag your sorry carcass to Medical?" He heard a more coherent groan and Phillips seemed to begin searching the floor for his feet to get up. "Good."

While he waited for the SEAL to regain his feet, he walked over to Steen who tried his best to stand still and stare ahead properly at attention. "You hurt bad Steen? Anything you need to go see Doc about?"

"No Sergeant major." Steen struggled to stand a bit straighter.

"Oh gawd have mercy on us all, it's a danged miracle." Steen couldn't stop the glance at the face, and was surprised to see a twinkle of amusement in the deep brown eyes. BeachHead turned to Evan briefly. "Steen managed to answer me without callin' me 'sir'. I about thought he was incapable of that." He turned back to his errant medic. "You sure you're okay? No injuries you're hidin' from me?"

"No Sergeant major. Just a few bruises. I'm fine." Although he had acquired several extra bruises, it wasn't much worse than some of the ones he already had from the PT and Scarlett's ungentle ministrations.

BeachHead suddenly focused on his face. "Where's your glasses?" Steen reached up and touched his face, and looked involuntarily at the floor. "Find them."

"Yes si.. sergeant." He immediately ducked and looked along the floor at his bunk. Within a few seconds, he'd found them behind the footlocker and plucked them up. Before he could examine them, BeachHead took them out of his fingers and held the frames up to peer at them.

"Good thing they're not busted." He took the time to polish them with the cloth of his sling. Holding them back up to the light, he reexamined them briefly. "Our eye doctor is painfully slow at issuein' replacements." He handed them back, and turned back to the pair of SEALs, Phillips having finally regained his feet, although he still wove side to side slightly. "Phillips! Stand up there! I didn't hit you that danged hard! Danged pansy SEALs. Geez. I gotta busted wing and I could take down a whole danged platoon of you SEALs."

His words didn't even elicit a wince from either man, and that seemed to disappoint him. "Get your bags, head out. Motorpool. NOW NOW!" His shout made them snatch up the duffel bags and trot out, Phillips stumbling at the doorway. "MACK!! Make sure your buddy don't fall out on the danged way!" A faint acknowledgment came back from outside. BeachHead turned his attention back to his two remaining recruits.

"You two. Keep your mouths shut. Steen, you want to make some formal complaint about being attacked, you come to ME. Understand that?" Steen nodded, having no intention of making any such report. "Evan. You and me, we'll have some words later on. Steen, try to stay OUT of danged trouble for a couple days, or I'll run you into the ground until you danged well DIE. Then I'll drag your dead body around a few last days just to make certain you understand the lesson. Got me?"

Steen nodded at him. "Yes Sergeant major!"

"Good lord.. twice in one night. What will we do with you if you turn yourself into a proper trooper? What's next? You gonna actually pick up a water pistol to squirt the enemy with?" BeachHead's good humor puzzled Steen but he felt like he was awaiting an answer of some sort.

"No sergeant major." He heard a snort of amusement before the Ranger turned to leave.

"I didn't figure so. I'm gettin' too danged old to deal with this junk. Gonna make me gray afore my time." His grumbling voice faded as he left the barracks. Steen turned his gaze on Evan who looked back at him.

Evan suddenly patted himself in the crotch. "Oh thank god.. I was worried I'd peed on myself when he yelled."

Steen let out a relieved laugh. "You too? I don't think I have testicles anymore.. I think they're up behind my navel hiding. I'm going to be sterile the rest of my life.. he's scary when he's mad."

Evan shook his head and sat onto the nearest bunk. "No.. he's scary when he's peacefully sleeping... when he's mad, he's downright terrifying! I thought he was gonna kill all of us all at once! Did you SEE him take those two mokes down? How'd he DO that?"

Steen lowered his shaking body onto the bunk next to Evan. "I don't know.. but.. Evan. Thanks. For you know.. rescuing me. I didn't want you to get into any trouble, but.. they would have really beaten the heck out of me if you hadn't stopped them."

Evan sighed heavily. "I don't like bullies. Besides.. I'll probably need all the brownie points I can get with you medical personnel. According to LowLight, I'm what's called a 'natural bullet-catcher' in my dodging ability. He said I'd understand that idea better once BeachHead starts shooting at us on the obstacle course." He paused then looked at Steen's stunned expression. "I'm pretty sure he'll use paintballs. You don't think he'd actually shoot us with live ammo.. do you?"

Steen looked at the doorway for a second. "You know.. I'm not sure. I'm kind of afraid he's got orders to not use real guns.. and he'll just throw the bullets at us.. and that'll hurt us worse if he's really mad."

His teammate grinned widely. "We should tell him that.. I bet he'd be really amused."

The medic sighed at him, shaking his head. "Yeah.. let's tell him that.. I love running until I throw up things I ate as a child. It's just cleansing in the mornings."

"Steen? Go to bed." Evan was smiling as he started to leave the barracks and go back to whatever he'd been doing before.

Steen heaved himself up onto the top bunk he'd chosen when they'd arrived. "Yeah.. that's what my original plan was.. see how well that worked out for me?"

"Shuddup and stop yer whining, you pogue!" Evan's parting shot in imitation of BeachHead's deep voiced drawl made Steen smile to himself. He sniffed slightly and found a position to lie in that wasn't too painfully sore. He probably would be sore the next day, and he probably wouldn't catch a bit of slack from anyone for it either. If BeachHead said to keep his mouth shut about it, he wouldn't mention it to anyone. The last thing he needed now was to focus the instructor's attention on himself.

* * * *

End Chapter:

Well, that's his encounter with intolerant asshats. Hopefully, things will go smoother later on. Hope you enjoyed. Comments, reviews, etc.. please feel free.


	7. Chapter 7: Girls and Medical Work

Chapter 7

Ahhhh yes.. I'm rewriting the fic. It's too good of a storyline to trash the entire thing, so thank you for all the words of encouragement. There's still a few scenes I'm REALLY unhappy with, since the rewrite just plain is sucking. The rest, some of it might be better, some is just as good, so I shouldn't complain.

Lifeline's canon martial art is termed Aikido(in the comics), which is described(in the comic) as a completely defensive fighting style, without offensive moves. This is what he will learn, albeit, unknowingly, since he's DETERMINED to not learn a fighting style or martial art. Lucky for HIM, SnakeEyes is not only a very good instructor and master martial artist.. he's also SNEAKY!

Since Steen is obviously used to getting beaten up, the attack on him won't seem that unusual to him. So it won't be a spur for him to learn a martial art. He hasn't bothered to defend himself previous to this, so he wouldn't suddenly want to here either. Thus, the sneaky ninja instructing.. yessss...

TinySprite pointed out a VERY good point with a review about the phrasing in a certain part of the fight. It was very vague, and actually seemed to say that Steen was doing the fighting, so I'm going back to tweak that. THANK YOU to TinySprite for catching that for me! Kudos!!!

Insert a boring disclaimer here about me not owning the Joes, not making money, etc etc, please don't sue.

Now.. please enjoy! I'll be working again after the holiday, so don't get TOO spoiled with the fast updates! Reviews do make me very happy, especially detailed reviews about what worked best, or what didn't work, or what you'd like to see.

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The obstacle course had gotten to be the day's entertainment anytime Steen was put on the spot for live action rescues. It seemed inevitable that many of the Joes would show up to watch.

Dusty was a frequent 'volunteer'. Steen thanked him one morning early as he was walking out to find a spot to lie on the course. That's when he found out that BeachHead was known for snapping up people at random when he needed a warm body. Dusty's imitation of BeachHead's southern drawl snapping out 'Dusty, yer just been voluntold for victim duty.. git yerself out on-a course, NOW!' made all of them laugh loudly, until someone noticed Beach standing behind the group. The resulting miles of running and hours of PT made two of them throw up, and all of them regret laughing, although Dusty seemed to take it rather well, even after he ran the course four times, then had to play victim anyway.

The guys in the barracks were all awakened at an ungodly hour once by shrieking outside. They all barreled out the door to find BeachHead bodily dragging Dusty around the building and off into the night. The good-natured desert trooper was absent for a few days, finally showing up sheepishly limping with a black eye claiming to have met a door. When Steen narrowed his eyes and questioned him again, he repeated his claim, expanding it to include 'meeting a large alabama-made door that hits like a truck'. He didn't seem too discouraged nevertheless.

The longer they stuck around, the more of the experienced full Joe team members they met. As far as Steen himself, people seemed split fifty-fifty, between those fascinated by his avowed pacifism and appalled that he was even considered.

Uban and Finnegin seemed to have decided he was okay, and tended to hang out with him whenever they had extra time. Evan on the other hand became more disdainful of him with each passing day. Steen was fairly certain it was less that Evan didn't like him, and more that Evan was trying to build friendships with other Joes that might not like the pacifist all that much. The fact that both females preferred to spend their time with the slender self-effacing medic rather than him caused a real sense of antagonism.

They arrived for dinner in the messhall and found the place packed. Uban tossed her braid over her back and looked around. "Wow.. what's the special occasion?"

Warrant officer Flint was in line just in front of them and turned to grin at her. "Lasagna night.. made by Roadblock! No one wants to miss out on this!"

Steen blinked. "Roadblock? Isn't he that huge scary black guy who carries a gun bigger than me?" Flint nodded, still grinning at him. "Okay.. as long as it's edible.. I don't even care right now. I'm so tired.. I might need to get Finnegin to pre-chew my food for me."

The women both rolled their eyes. Finnegin grabbed him in a headlock and rubbed her fist on his hair hard. "OW ow ow ow ow!" He pushed her arm off his head and stood up, adjusting his glasses. "Stop picking on me." He made a face at her. "Big bully."

She smirked at him and reached to pinch his cheek instead. "I can't help it, you're so cute when you get all annoyed." She suddenly gave him a nudge. "Look.. BeachHead is already seated over there with Duke.. should we try to sit nearby and eavesdrop?"

Uban frowned. "Eavesdropping is rude and wrong. Besides, Sergeant major has eyes in the back of his head, he's not gonna drop any hints where we can hear." She twisted around looking across the crowded room. "Let's sit over on that side."

Steen was focusing more on the really nice smelling food he could almost see. He stepped forward a little bit then glanced over in the direction she was pointing. "Oh Uban.. you really must not like Dusty.. you keep getting him into trouble. If BeachHead sees you sitting over next to that poor guy, he's gonna run him until he can't stand up anymore."

Uban gave him a naughty smile. "Well, he hasn't had any problems 'standing up' yet.. and besides.. he can always be a more accurate victim for you to rescue once Sergeant major breaks one of his legs for real." Her face turned to him and she gave him a wink. "Just trying to help you out, Steen.. see?"

"Oh yeah.. thanks. That's just grand. I'll have to patch him up for real, then carry him around the course, and then deal with the extra guilt for you getting his legs broken, all for me to have a more realistic victim." He hummed to himself. Now he could see the trays of food and perked up. It smelled and looked very tasty. "Dinner.. I wasn't hungry until I smelled it.. now I'm starving."

Once he got his platter and a seat, he tasted the first bite and was surprised at how good it was. He resolved to make certain he ate dinner anytime he heard about Roadblock cooking. By the time he'd nearly finished the meal, he was falling asleep in his seat.

"Steen... Steen... Steen! Hey!" He was shaken slightly and sat up suddenly. "You're about to go face-first into your plate." He looked up into Finnegin's concerned face. "Go sack out dude."

He nodded and started to get to his feet and was shoved back down by a heavy hand on one shoulder. Evan leaned over him. "Aww.. sleepy medic? Getting too much for you?"

Finnegin snorted at him. "If you're not tired Evan, I'm sure Sergeant major would like to know he's not working you hard enough. Maybe if you put out more effort, you'd be as tired as Steen." The medic sighed and got up to move between the two recruits. "Come on Steen.. you might not wanna hit him.. but I wouldn't mind."

He shook his head. "No one needs to be hit. It's nothing. Evan was just joking, and hitting teammates is counterproductive. Starting a fight in the messhall when every officer in GI Joe is present for the great lasagna is downright stupid." He very adroitly managed to get both of them to glare at him. "I'm headed for the showers and a warm bunk. You two feel free to make fools of yourselves while I'm gone though." He walked away, feeling a few sets of eyes on him. As long as he'd deflected the squabble, he wasn't overly concerned.

The showers were nearly deserted with everyone possible in the messhall. Normally he'd use the showers at ground level, but the men's showers suddenly only gave out cold water. They were given permission to use the showers down in the Pit, which while inconvenient, was preferable to taking a freezing shower close to the barracks. Half asleep in the hot water, he was surprised suddenly when someone came out of the back shower. Then he gasped involuntarily.

"S-sorry.." He didn't want to stare at the scarred face, but he'd never come across anyone with as much damage and not disabled in some fashion. "I didn't t-t-think anyone was here."

It wasn't until the man signed casually at him that he realized who it was.

*Sorry, I try not to be here when there are new people.* The commando plucked up a mask from a pile of clothing and tugged it on. He finished toweling himself off before dressing in sweats and teeshirt. Steen tried not to think about how many scars covered his body as well. Either he'd been fighting for a long long time, or he'd gotten them in only a few very nasty conflicts, which was scary.

"It's okay.. you just startled me." He took a deeper breath. At least he was awake now.

*I'm a ninja.. we do that.* With that parting shot, SnakeEyes strode out, the same cat-like grace evident in a casual setting as in the dojo.

"Yeah.. ninjas.. good lord.. what have I gotten into?" He finished showering and left quickly. Settling into his bunk, he rolled into the blanket and was asleep in seconds.

* * * *

Uban and Steen were busy repairing packs. The obstacle course was rough on the strapping and Steen had multiple small rips in the fabric since he was nearly incapable of crawling under the razor wire without hanging up on it somewhere. Finnegin had begun called him BeachHead's favorite chew toy, since the sergeant had to go fetch him from under the razor wire so often. It was humiliating every time, since BeachHead cursed him out the entire time, and often dragged him bodily out from underneath and tossed him to his feet as if he were a helpless kitten. At this point, he preferred when there was a mudpit under the wire, as it gave him enough extra clearance that he could make it without accidentally catching himself on the wire overhead. He ate a lot of mud, but it was better than being hauled out and yelled at.

Uban was busily reattaching a strap that had gotten loose on her own pack. They worked together in near silence in the waning afternoon. His companion had settled into her own routine, which included various repairs and studying books on tactics in her free time.

"Private Uban." The low mellow voice carried easily into the nearly empty rec room they occupied. Both of them looked up to see the team sniper LowLight looking in. "There you are." He wiped his combat boots carefully before he walked in.

"Sergeant!" Before they could stand, he waved them down. "Yes, sergeant?"

"Uban, I got you approved for sniper program, you're a provisional sniper as your secondary MOS. I run the range twice a week when I'm on base. BeachHead will have your new schedule tomorrow." LowLight's reddish goggles hid his expression almost as well as BeachHead's mask. He turned the eerie gaze on the medic. "Steen. You changed your mind about shooting yet?"

"No sergeant." He shook his head firmly and watched LowLight lose interest in his existence entirely. He turned back to Uban instead, motioning her to follow him out. She put her pack and repairs aside and jumped up to leave, giving him a apologetic shrug. "See you later." He smiled to let her know he wasn't offended. He really wasn't. They were all still trainees and subject to the whims of the instructors. While she was gone, he'd go ahead and finish her repairs on her pack as well, just in case she was delayed overmuch. It would only take him a few extra minutes but help her out a great deal. That's what teamwork was he supposed.

He looked at the empty doorway. He probably should take offense at his dismissal by LowLight, but having seen him interacting with the rest of the team, it wasn't him, it was the sniper. He didn't seem to be a social sort. In fact, he was rarely seen other than on the rifle range or during the night. The full Joes were a really odd assortment, he supposed. Steen wondered sometimes if it was even possible for him to fit in with such a strange group at all.

* * * *

Everyone was getting a standard physical, all six of the remaining recruits. Steen was being given a thorough checkup, expecting to pass easily despite the appalling amount of bruises and minor cuts that he somehow acquired over the week. Most of the time, he couldn't remember getting them, and if they were minor enough that he didn't notice, he began to ignore them like everyone else.

He'd blushed and looked aside while waiting in nothing but shorts when Uban strutted past in her own underwear. She gave him a smirk, obviously just as comfortable in her skin as fully covered with BDUs. Of course, she had nothing to be ashamed of, being a sleek beautiful toned woman, not a skinny half-weight like himself.

Doc stepped out with his clipboard and used it to point at him. "Steen.. you're next.." He walked in, trying not to shiver at the constant chill in the air. "Having fun being on the other side of the coin in Medical? Another week or so, and you might be giving the exams, instead of taking them."

"Not really sir.. never did like these." He looked at the floor and was motioned up onto the scale. "HOW MUCH??"

"One hundred sixty-two pounds... not bad." Doc marked his weight on the chart. "What's wrong?"

"I've NEVER weighed this much! I'm exercising constantly!" Steen poked the weights on the scale and redid them. "Are you sure this scale is accurate?"

"Of course I'm sure. Steen.. don't be an idiot. You're putting on a lot of muscle, you know that." Doc rolled his eyes at the astounded expression on his medic's face. "Muscle weighs more than fat.. all that standard medical facts that you already know and have no doubt already told other patients? I'd like to see you gain a few pounds still, besides more muscle which I'm sure will please BeachHead." He motioned him off the scale. "How's this one bruise doing?" Doc poked at the palm sized lump on his thigh. "Where'd you even get that?"

"I fell on Sergeant Scarlett's boot." Steen rubbed the spot. "She said that I'm improving on my 'limp sack of potatoes falling down ability'. It's really hard to do anything other than fly through the air when she throws me so easily."

Doc grinned widely. "Yes.. you'll get that from our hand-to-hand instructors. Is SnakeEyes participating in the Medic Tossing competition?" Steen grinned and shook his head. "No? I'm surprised, he's usually pretty on the ball with new recruits. But I haven't seen him around in the last few days.. maybe he's on a mission. They keep him pretty busy."

Steen thought about his daily routine. "You know.. Sergeant Scarlett has been doing all the instruction.. with.. umm... hmm.. Sergeant Stalker.. and I think.. maybe.. I saw the other ninja once, but she didn't stay."

His superior shook his head. "That would be Jinx. She's not supposed to do instruction on anyone, not even raw recruits. Later in advanced hand-to-hand, she is allowed to be a sparring partner for the best ones, if.. IF SnakeEyes lets her. According to him she's progressing but has some issues in knowing how to instruct rather than fight. It seems that ninja training is done differently than our regular hand-to-hand. Considering how good she is in any battle she's been in, I can't see anyone objecting."

Steen gave him a startled look. "She goes into battle? But.. but she's so tiny?" He sighed. "I know.. she's a small package of deadly abilities. I still can't believe they are really supposed to be ninjas." He watched the amusement cross the other man's face. "Come on.. it's kind of bizarre to claim ninjas.. what's next? Pirates?"

"Do you want to meet some pirates? I'm certain Shipwreck might qualify as a pirate to some people.. he even has a parrot. If he keeps hitting on LadyJaye and Scarlett, he'll probably need an eyepatch too."

Steen shook his head. "If Dusty doesn't stop trying to sneak in to see Uban, he'll need a week to recover from BeachHead kicking him in unmentionable parts."

"Ahhh yes.. so far I've treated him for two minor concussions and a slightly twisted knee that he got trying to avoid getting caught." Doc sighed. "Usually it's Clutch and Shipwreck, this time it's Dusty. You just sort of get used to certain things happening." He looked at the more slender younger man, obviously thinking something over. "There are a lot of.. hmm.. non-regulation things that might happen here. Some of it is ignored by everyone, and you'll have to learn which discretionary procedures to practice."

Steen was staring at him. "You're acting like I'm going to make it. Do you know something I don't?"

Doc just grinned widely at him, his good humor evident in every feature of his ebony face. "I know a LOT of things that you don't... including some things that pertain to your currant status. Just keep doing as well as you are now.. okay? And don't.. no matter what happens... don't screw up."

Grinning back at him, Steen felt just a little bit of relief. He had a very good chance, and as long as he didn't do something wrong in the next couple of weeks, he'd get to be a GI Joe. He just had to avoid making his insane sergeant major angry at him, avoid falling on his face too often during PT training, avoid not falling properly on his face during his modified combat training, and worst of all, avoid getting caught in any crossfire with his fellow trainees.

"Thanks. Am I done here? I have to make it to my daily Medic-Tossing event."

Doc nodded at him, already closing his file when there was a loud commotion outside the room. "Get dressed.. I have to go see what's up.." Doc was already partially out the door before he finished speaking. Steen darted out, headed to grab his clothing when a sharp cry sounded from the triage. Unable to ignore a obvious cry of pain, he snatched up the bundle of clothing and trotted out to the area. What he found made him drop the clothing to the side and grab for gloves to help.

There were three Joes being brought in, all bleeding, and two yelling loudly in pain. Steen took over the second one, with Doc already directing the interns over the noise.

"Stretcher get Breaker into bay four.. calm down Breaker.. you're okay!"

The stocky communications expert grabbed at Doc. "Don't mind me.. get Snakes.. " He was effectively pushing away the helping hands from the burned and torn material of his pants. "I'm okay.."

Doc finally grabbed his wrists and leaned over his face. "Listen to me.. listen.. you're not okay, let me look and see what you need.. you're delaying everyone else getting treated.. lie still." Breaker lay back, his injured leg jiggling badly. "There.. Stretcher.. clean this up, get full vitals, check him for any other injuries.." The dark skinned physician moved easily to the next man. "Hey Clutch.. whacha got for me?"

"I got shot.. they shot me Doc.." Clutch seemed eerily calm. "I think it's not bad, just hurts a bunch, Breaker got all the bleeding to quit, before we blew up and all.. Snakes is the one bad off. He got hit three times by small arms fire.. before we blew up.. man.. Wild Bill is gonna be so mad.. we blew up his favorite Tomahawk.."

Doc gave him a pat. "He'll understand, and Duke will probably order him up a brand new one. You aren't hit bad.. Drew.. take him to join Breaker in bay four, tell Stretcher to check him over fully next."

Steen had already been cutting away black cloth, surprised at how tough the material turned out to be. He pulled loose two pressure bandages, replacing them with large fresh ones. "You'll be fine.. gonna take good care of you.." To his surprise the uninjured arm raised and signed at him. "I'm sorry.. can you repeat that?" One handed signs were harder to follow for him still.

*Just patch me up, I'm fine. Just got shot.*

Steen stared at him in disbelief. "You've been shot twice, and you have gashes with metal shrapnel embedded in them.. you're not fine."

SnakeEyes lifted his head slightly and pointed at his lower ribs. *Shot three times..* Steen looked at the spot, finding a entrance wound. *Small handgun.. not bad.*

"Not bad? You're crazy! There's no exit wound.. so the bullet's inside you somewhere.." He pressed fingers across the taut abdomen, searching out rigid spots or swelling. "Doc!?" When the taller man appeared, Steen showed him the third wound. "Two gunshot wounds, through and through, one on the outer thigh, one just inside the shoulder joint, one embedded gunshot in his lower ribs.. bullet is somewhere inside. Belly is relaxed, no sign of internal bleeding.. do you want me to do a lavage to check?"

Doc gave the patient a once-over quickly as Steen finished stripping off clothing and then the mask. "Start an iv, run a CBC.." He grabbed up a set of large hemostats. "Hold still SnakeEyes.." Steen gaped as he inserted the forceps deep into the wound in his patient's side. "Yep.. it's right there.. hang tight.." Doc probed about slightly while the commando gripped onto the edges of the gurney. "Got it.." He drew the instrument back out slowly and held up the small lump of metal. "Okay.. it was in the muscle still, you're lucky.. once again." Doc glanced at Steen. "IV, and CBC Steen. Now."

Steen blinked at him, then turned to grab up the angiocatheter. Inserting it into one of the large veins took only seconds, and he had the blood sample drawn and the bag of fluids attached in short order. The blood vials were labeled and sent off with a nurse to be tested quickly in their small lab.

Doc was just returning from checking on the other two injuries parties. "Breaker and Clutch will both be fine too, just some gashes to be stitched and Clutch had a bullet lodged in his shoulder. It almost made it all the way through, so I just cut it out from the back, he'll wake up sore and grumpy. Breaker still needs to be stitched up. Steen, how about you show me how well you can work on that sort of wound?"

The medic was still staring at the commando laying on the table. "But... but.. shouldn't.."

Doc patted him. "You go work on Breaker's leg, and I'll finish bandaging and checking on SnakeEyes, he'll be trying to get off the table in another few minutes, and I don't think you want to be the one trying to restrain him." He suddenly smiled at the stunned medic. "You should get dressed first.."

Steen looked down and then turned beet red. "S-s-sorry sir.." He stripped the gloves off and found his clothing. He'd JUST been told not to screw up, and here he was, trying pathetically to treat gunshot wounds in nothing but his boxers and sterile gloves. He was lucky Doc hadn't just told him to pack it up and leave. Once BeachHead found out, he was toast. Until then.. he had a patient to treat though..

* * * *

End Chapter:

Strip show and medical treatment at the same time, what more could a Joe ask for? Well.. maybe for the strip show to be Uban, instead of Steen.. but.. well. Yeah, not much more to say about that.

Dusty is just an enthusiastic guy about these new gals, isn't he? Just have to love young guys with more hormones than good sense.

Steen is about to get a lot more introduction to 'how to treat a typical ninja in the medical wards'. He's also about to get a surprise. I'm very glad that everyone seems to be enjoying the fic.


	8. Chapter 8:Ninja and Surprise

Chap 8

Happy New Year and all that junk! As a treat, here's a LONG chapter to the fic! Steen learns a little bit about treating ninja, and gets a surprise as well. Thank you to all my very kind reviewers, all comments are really satisfying to read, and make me feel as if people do enjoy the fic.

* * * *

Steen was just cleaning up the bits of trash from his stitching. Breaker's leg was neatly bandaged after Doc had checked over his work, approving it and leaving again to finish his own treatment of SnakeEye's many wounds. Breaker was sleeping under sedation, blissfully unaware of anything. Two of the interns had taken him off to install him into a recovery bed. Within a few days, he'd be up and about again.

The medic walked to the bay where Doc was checking the Xrays hung up on the lightboard. "Okay Snakes.. I think one more bit in this calf, then you'll be done. Then you'll just lie around to recover for a few days." There was a surprisingly loud snort, and Steen peered into the scarred face with disbelief.

*I don't need to stay.*

Steen tilted his head. "Why isn't he sedated?"

Doc smiled as he bent over the wounded calf. "SnakeEyes doesn't like to be sedated unless it's absolutely necessary so we use local anesthetics if we can. He's all tough, so he doesn't need to be knocked out just to put in stitches. You're alright, right Snakes?"

Steen was given a enthused thumb's-up. He looked at the wound. "Do you need any help, sir? I finished with Breaker, and he's in recovery." He looked at the commando again as the doctor shook his head, humming softly as he probed the wound searching for the metal bit. "How long will SnakeEyes need to stay in recovery?"

He was answered by both at the same time.

"Two days."

*Not at all.*

They glared at each other, ignoring the medic. Doc spoke up sternly. "Two days.. you have multiple wounds, including three gunshot wounds. Forty-eight hours is a reasonable length of time."

SnakeEyes snorted again the scarred face grimacing at the physician. *I didn't need to be sedated, it's only stitches, no matter what made the wounds. I don't need to stay.*

Doc finally held up a sliver of twisted metal. "Got it. Look.. you need to stay in here, so I can make sure nothing else is wrong, bruised lungs, head injuries, stuff like that, plus I can watch the readings to make sure nothing was injured inside your belly from that one bullet wound. I'll put you in the back room where it's quiet, so no one will come bother you."

*A few hours to be monitored, then I'm leaving.* SnakeEyes seemed as if he were making a huge concession. This strange deal-making was completely out of Steen's experience, generally.. doctors told you that you were staying in medical, and you stayed until they said you could leave.

Doc wiped the wound and put a small gauze pad over the hole and taped it securely. "Thirty-six hours, and I'll ask Roadblock to make you something extra good to eat in here."

SnakeEyes hesitated and Steen revised his already high opinion of Roadblock's cooking abilities. If it made the feared commando change his mind about staying in Medical, it must be awfully good. *Twenty-four hours and I'd like a pot of good tea to start with too.*

Doc nodded. "Done.. but you have to STAY here.. not make frequent trips in and out, you stay in bed, resting. I'll brew up some good tea for you.. and just because you're such a good patient this time, I'll bring some of my tupelo honey instead of sugar." The scarred visage looked rather pleased. "We'll get you moved to the room in just a minute.."

SnakeEyes swung his legs off the gurney and motioned shortly at them. *I can walk.* Before either could stop him, he slipped off and stood. Steen could barely see a tremor in his legs. *Back room?*

Doc sighed. "Would you like a gown or would you prefer to scandalize everyone?" The commando plucked up the mask from the instrument tray and tugged it over his head. He did let the two medical personnel help him on with the gown. His iv line was run through the sleeve and Doc carried the bag of fluids. Then he nonchalantly walked to the recovery room behind Doc's office. He paused to peer in at Clutch and Breaker who were both sleeping soundly.

He turned to Steen to sign, his iv line swinging with the motions. *Will they be okay?*

After he looked at Doc for permission, the medic nodded. Doc motioned towards the back room. "Steen can't tell you details, but they'll both recover. They're just sedated right now, not everyone enjoys feeling us stabbing needles and thread through their living flesh like you obviously do."

They were treated to a loud snort, followed by a cluck of the man's tongue. *I don't enjoy it. I just prefer not to be put under the influence of drugs for no good reason.* Doc exchanged a look with his medic, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. *I saw that.*

"I know.. you see everything. Just get into bed.. try to relax and thinking some healing peaceful thoughts.. no angry destructive ninja thoughts, please."

Once the silent commando was settled in, with the bag hung up properly and antibiotics injected into the mix, Doc beckoned his medic to come with him. "He'll be fine.. especially if he'll stay put for the twenty-four hours. I'll be rather pleased if he'll stay that long."

"Why not just order him to stay as long as you think necessary?"

Doc snickered at him. "You have no experience dealing with some of these stubborn patients. Well.. I take that back." He gave the young man a satisfied look. "You did cow BeachHead into wearing a sling. I usually have to bandage it to his chest and tell him it'll fall off if he doesn't leave it that way."

"You lie to him?" Steen thought that over. It wasn't a bad strategy considering how hard-headed the man was.

"Not really.. I would pull his arm off if he came right back with it out again because he was being stupid.. so in a very round-about way, it's true." Steen had to laugh softly. "You should get to dinner. I guarantee Scarlett will be in here as soon as she's allowed to see that SnakeEyes isn't too badly hurt, soooo if you see her out front, just tell her he's in the back room and to go on back."

Steen nodded and headed out. Just as Doc predicted, he found his hand-to-hand instructor pacing in the outer area. "Sergeant Scarlett?" She turned a scarily intense look onto him. He swallowed. "Doc said to let you know, Sergeant SnakeEyes is in the back room and you should go ahead to the back."

She stepped up to him first. "How badly is he hurt?" He shook his head. "Tell me!"

Steen tried to step back and she grabbed his shirt front. "I can't! I can't tell you anything! Doctor-patient privilege!" He was shaken and blinked dizzily.

"Scarlett! Put that medic down!" BeachHead's voice snapped out from down the hallway. "You know he's right, so jus' get back and find out fer yerself!" He strode up, giving the redhead a serious glare. Steen wanted to kiss his boots for showing up.

Scarlett set him down and turned loose. "Sorry.. " She gave BeachHead a return glare and stalked off to the back.

Steen straightened his clothes and gave BeachHead a grateful look. "Thank you Sergeant Major. Is there something I can help you with?"

He got treated to a scowl of his own. Once in a while he wondered at how effectively the man could look so displeased with only his eyes showing. "Yeah.. you didn't show for hand-to-hand. Change your mind about being a Joe? Cause pacifist or not, you're gonna attend those classes until Snakes or Scarlett says you don't gotta."

Steen motioned to the Medical bay anxiously. "I.. I was... I was headed out, but then the wounded came in.. I was helping treat them."

To his great relief, BeachHead stopped looking quite so angry. "Oh. Anyone serious?" He looked down the hall over the smaller medic with a bit of concern. "You ain't gotta tell me details.. just.. anything serious?"

"Umm.. not too bad." He felt that was vague enough to not be fudging on his regulations. "I'm sure if you talk to Doc.." He was waved off. Then BeachHead motioned for him to follow. He fell in behind without question and trotted at times to keep up with the long legged Ranger. They moved through the Pit corridors quickly, passing by full Joes and greenshirts without speaking. Several of the Joes greeted BeachHead in various ways, including short standard greetings, a few vulgarities, two physical blows to either an arm or a shoulder, and one rather risque comment from Jinx who was actually walking down the hallway, rather than traveling in the secret ninja passages that Steen assumed were in the walls of the facility. BeachHead returned all the greetings with monosyllable grunts accompanied by a brief nod of his head if he really felt chatty with that particular person. He did aim one half-hearted swat towards the apprentice's head, which she dodged easily, not even pausing in her jaunty walk.

They arrived at the offices and BeachHead led him to an office with an exterior desk manned by a junior greenshirt. He slowed as he approached. "Hawk in?"

He was stared at with a mixture of anxiousness and uncertainty. "Uh. Yessss sergeant major.. but.." BeachHead didn't actually stop walking, simply passing the end of the desk still trailing his medic shadow who didn't dare stop unless told to. Steen figured the better idea was to follow along and if they both got into trouble, he could point out that HE was just doing as told. He'd rather take the chance that someone else would be angry, rather than risk BeachHead's certain anger at being disobeyed.

The sergeant did pause at the door to rap at it twice before he flipped the door open and strode in, stepping to one side and letting Steen close the door behind himself. The medic immediately moved to slightly behind BeachHead's bulk, just in case there was any explosions from an angry officer at being interrupted in his office. He stood at attention attentively though, half-hidden by BeachHead or not.

"BeachHead reporting as ordered, sir."

Steen glanced at the rigid back as Beach came to a crisp attention. The amused voice from behind the desk released both of them to a slightly more relaxed position.

"At ease. Medic Steen... you are back there, aren't you?"

Steen stepped sideways and gave a formal nod. "Sir! Yes sir."

General Hawk looked him over carefully. "That's better. I'd almost think you were hiding behind our Sergeant Major."

Steen blushed and struggled not to squirm uncomfortably. "No sir."

"Very good then." Hawk picked up the file in front of him and opened it to flip through the pages quietly, pausing at times to look over a certain sheet here and there. Steen was happy to simply stand there, because in the Army, when nothing bad was happening to you, you never rocked the boat. BeachHead on the other hand..

"Sir? Should I jus' come back later on?" Steen's eyes widened slightly. He prayed that he wouldn't get caught in the reprimand. To his surprise, Hawk smiled and raised an eyebrow at the question.

His voice still sounded mildly amused. "No, I think you can wait." BeachHead took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, just to make his point that he obviously felt put-out at having to stand and do nothing for no reason. Steen wanted to scoot further away, but felt that moving would possibly focus BeachHead's irritation on someone he COULD affect. So he waited patiently.

There was finally a knock on the door and Hawk spoke up without looking. "Come." BeachHead put one hand casually on his holstered weapon as the door opened, shifting himself just enough to block a direct path to the desk. He stepped back again once Doc came through the door. Steen gave his direct boss a pleading glance. Doc's expressionless face nodded at the general.

"Sir.. reporting as ordered." Hawk nodded at one of the chairs. "Thank you sir."

Once the doctor was seated, Hawk leaned forward to speak to him. "How's our team? Any serious injuries?"

Doc set a sheaf of papers on the desk calmly. "Breaker will need a few days, he has a nasty wound to his leg. Clutch can leave Medical tomorrow, he had a single through-and-through. SnakeEyes had three gunshot wounds, several shrapnel wounds and he'll stay in Medical for twenty-four hours."

BeachHead snorted loudly. "Not likely. He's probably already gone."

Doc shook his head. "I made a deal with him, he'll stay."

Hawk nodded at him, setting the papers aside. "Thank you. If you need any help keeping our ninja in Medical.."

Doc shook his head. "No sir, thanks, but honestly, if he had insisted on disappearing, he's not in bad shape. I'd of course initiate a hunt for him, on general principles, but he's in no real danger, for him, anyway." He suddenly looked at Steen. "No repeating this, of course. The last thing SnakeEyes needs is to realize I'm onto his usual tactics."

"No sir, of course not."

Hawk pointed at the other chair. "Sit down Steen." The medic glanced at BeachHead who was still standing to the side slightly. "It won't insult Beach for you to sit instead of him. I have to order him into a chair at the best of times. So sit." He quickly sat down stiffly, still uncertain and nervous. He should have gotten dressed before trying to treat patients.. he should have worked harder on his PT scores. Maybe he wasn't being let go yet.. maybe they'd give him another chance. Sure.. they hadn't given anyone else a second chance.. he sighed softly.

Hawk looked at Doc. "Assessment?" He waited calmly as the Doc handed over another report. He perused it a little bit. "So you recommend keeping him?" Steen looked at him in astonishment.

Doc gave him a smile. "I do. He has consistently preformed above expectations, and today helped treat emergency trauma patients." Doc's calm face seemed pleased.

Hawk nodded at him. "In nothing but his underwear, it seems..." Steen turned red, and BeachHead put a hand over his own eyes.

"Oh gawd, Steen. Jus' when I think ya can't do anything stupider.. you show me different." He took his hand down and shook his head sadly, looking mildly annoyed. "Can I pass by the dramatic pauses and all that stuff? I recommend we put Steen here up as a full Joe."

Hawk looked at the grumpy sergeant major. "You approve him? Despite the pacifist thing? Despite your first concern that a ..." He paused and found the right page. "..a 'skinny half-trained useless pacifist that couldn't find his butt with both hands and a map' wouldn't fit in with the Joe team proper?"

BeachHead nodded, not even a hint of embarrassment showing at his words being repeated by his superior officer. "I do, sir. He's put on muscle, I've been training him, and he's become very useful." He glanced down with an annoyed expression. "He still won't touch weapons.. but then, SnakeEyes said he has some ideas about some things to teach him, and I'm pretty sure I can make him pretty safe for the field. He's got spunk when you push hard enough. Besides.." He fixed his bored gaze on the far wall behind Hawk. "I like him okay."

Three sets of stunned eyes turned to him. After a few blinks, they turned away, as BeachHead ignored them totally. Hawk raised his eyebrows and gathered the papers. "Well.. with that rare ringing endorsement from the Sergeant major here.. that makes for a completely unanimous decision, as Duke and Flint both already put their own recommendations in before they left on missions. Congratulations Steen. You are officially a GI Joe. We'll come up with a codename for you."

BeachHead snorted. "Call him Lifeline, that's gonna be his position when he does his job right." Steen stared at him again, still a little stunned at his admission.

Hawk hummed. "Good enough. Lifeline it is. Get used to it, because from here out, that's your name. You'll be sent out on a mission when something appropriate comes up, otherwise, you're to keep to whatever training you are still in need of. See the QuarterMaster for room assignment tomorrow. You'll stay in the trainee barracks one last night." The general seemed pleased with himself and his new medic. "I hoped you'd make it through." He rose up and extended a hand to shake Steen's. "Welcome to the Joes, Lifeline. I hope you have very little work to do in the future, but I'm afraid you'll be busier than any of us would wish." He gave a nod. "Doc, please stay. Beach.. Lifeline.. dismissed."

BeachHead gave a solemn nod. "Yes sir." He gave Steen.. Lifeline.. a elbow to his ribs.

Lifeline jumped. "Yes sir.. thank you sir." He turned and fumbled at the doorknob, finally got it open and promptly tripped on the leg of the desk as he tried to get past Hawk's aide's station. He felt the back of his gear caught, and he was lifted back onto his feet.

"Gawd Steen.. I ain't gonna be around forever to keep picking ya up." BeachHead turned him loose and gave him a shove forward. "Get a move on."

Lifeline looked at him cautiously as they walked back along the corridors. He broke into a trot again to keep up. BeachHead always seemed impatient to get wherever he was headed, no matter what level of importance his errand or lack of errand. "Sergeant major, did you mean what you told Hawk?"

He was treated to a truly disgusted look as Beach snarled at him in irritation. "Are ya seriously accusin' me of lyin' ta Hawk? Yer not normally that stupid."

Lifeline, he needed to start thinking of himself by the codename, hopped slightly to the side while walking. "No.. no.. I didn't mean it like that.. I meant.. uhh.. " He stalled out, effectively blocked from getting confirmation on the comment. "Why.. why do you like me? I thought you couldn't stand me." BeachHead stopped so abruptly that he had to stop and back up a few steps.

He looked up into the glaring eyes. "Look. I ain't yer buddy, we ain't pals. But I'll respect how hard ya work to be a proper medic fer us. I ain't gonna go any easier on ya, I ain't gonna start being nice ta ya, and I'll still toss yer sorry butt right outa here if I catch ya slackin', am I understood?"

Lifeline heard the accent thickening up, and nodded frantically. "Yes sir! Understood!"

BeachHead rolled his eyes, tossing both hands up in despair. "Don't call me sir! Gawd have mercy on me.. why is that so danged hard for ya!?"

"Sorry Sergeant major.. I'll remember!" He was treated to a bit longer glare before Beach turned on his heel and continued down the corridor. Lifeline hurried to catch up, settling in just behind him again.

When the Ranger stopped again, Lifeline ran into his back and staggered back, stumbling over his own feet trying to back up. Once again, he was caught by a strap and hauled upright. "Gawd.. stand up!"

"Sorry! Sorry Sergeant major! I didn't expect you to stop all of a sudden!" He looked up and waited.

"Well? What do ya want?" BeachHead puffed out a exasperated breath. "Ya gonna just follow me around fer no reason?"

"I.. I.. I thought I was supposed to.. I mean..." BeachHead snorted at him. "What should I do now then?"

"Do whatever ya was gonna do afore I came and got ya." He turned on his heel and headed back down the corridor, followed again by Lifeline. This time when he stopped, the medic avoided running into him. "WHAT NOW?!"

Lifeline peered up at him fearfully. "I'm just going to dinner.. it's just in this direction.." Beach rolled his eyes again and turned to stalk off.

"I'll join ya fer dinner. That way ya can get all yer questions outa the way at once." Lifeline trotted after him again, much relieved that he wouldn't be left hanging totally. The grumpy sergeant major might not be a friendly sort, but at least he was a familiar, if fearsome, face.

Lifeline thought about his new situation while they stood in line and got food. It wasn't crowded this early. BeachHead snagged the first available table space. He seemed impervious to any annoyance of anyone around him. Lifeline watched one pair get up and leave from the seats next to them, wrinkling their noses in distaste. He caught the edge of their low comments about BeachHead's lack of bathing habits. Seemingly oblivious to it, the Ranger pulled off the balaclava and chucked it onto the table, wiping one forearm across his face in a well practiced move. His sleeve effectively removed the smear of mud from one cheekbone.

"How do you get mud under the facemask?" Lifeline poked his fork into the bean and pasta salad.

BeachHead chewed a mouthful of food briefly, looking at him with a slight frown. "That's the question ya chose to ask?" He shook his head, glancing aside as someone brushed by his back, grumbling in a low tone about him. "Mud gets slung everywhere. Don't take much to get under or through the cloth." He ran fingers through his rumpled up brown hair.

"Does it bother you when people complain that you don't bathe?" He swallowed suddenly, cursing his tongue for spitting out a stupid question. His eyes rose to meet the glinting brown ones staring at him.

"No." The eyes flicked away to peruse the food on his plate, and Beach went back to eating.

"Will any of the others make it too?" Lifeline ate a few bites while BeachHead thought that over.

"Probably both Finnegin and Uban, maybe Evan, the rest.. might make greenshirts. Maybe." Eating several bites of the beef dripping with rich gravy, BeachHead seemed to consider the question more. "Finnegin is a good enough soldier, not sure she's a good enough pilot, that's up ta Ace. Uban.. danged good infantry, maybe even make her a sniper. She's just gotta curb her inclination to go haring off on every whim that percolates under that pretty blond hair. She don't stop being a tease to every guy in sight, she ain't gonna make it. Evan's not bad, just gotta break his attitude some. I might just boot him to the greenshirt third unit, let them sort him out a while." Obviously having gone through all of his thoughts on the matter, Beach went back to eating, putting away a great deal of food in one sitting.

Lifeline watched him eat a few seconds. "Why are you telling me all this?"

Beach stopped completely and gave him look of consternation. "Did you or did you not just ask me about it?"

"Well.. yes.. but, I didn't expect you to go into such detail about my fellow recruits. I kind of thought you'd give me a hint.. " He wasn't surprised when Beach interrupted him.

"They're not your fellow recruits. You're a Joe now. That means you're my teammate, and as such, you're entitled to be concerned about what sort of new team members might be coming in. Plus.. you're in between hatin' me as a recruit, and hatin' me as a Joe. Figured I'd take the chance to tell you like it is, rather than having to bark at you."

Lifeline sat there a moment while BeachHead went back to efficiently putting down enough food for a small family. "I don't hate you." He caught the edge of one eye as the sergeant major flicked his gaze up for only a tiny instant.

"Peachy, I'll work harder on that." BeachHead stopped eating long enough to dust his potatoes with black pepper.

"How many calories a day do you eat?" Lifeline heard the low snort. "I want to be able to do what you do.. one day. Doc said I need to put on more weight, but I've gained a lot already."

BeachHead looked at him for a second, sucking at a tooth while he calculated. "I guess I eat about three, maybe four thousand calories in a day.. tops. Some days maybe closer to twenty-five hundred, if I don't get peckish midday and skip lunch. Sometimes lots less on missions, or during a rush." He put down a small heap of carrots. "You need more protein.. you're a doctor though, you know nutrition. Why ask me?"

Lifeline had finished off the beans and pasta, and made inroads on his beef. "Well.. honestly?" He stopped for a second, then dove in. "According to what I was 'taught', here should be no way for you to eat that many calories and burn them off, without damaging your body somehow." He was treated to a amused raised eyebrow. "I mean, obviously you manage.. and I know that you do a lot of physical work and burn it all off." He sighed. "You know, I decided that if you could do all that every day, then I could do it too. But I'm not certain I can anymore. I feel like I'm hitting a threshold I can't quite get over."

BeachHead acquired a very very evil smile, one that made Lifeline wish he'd skipped dinner, and thus the conversation, altogether. "I think ya just need a little extra training.. a little push to get ya over that threshold." He scraped a fork across the suddenly empty plate and tucked it into his mouth, sucking the last bits of gravy off it and not looking as if he were particularly full. "Yooou can meet me at 0430 tomorrow morning at the fenceline. We'll get you nudged over that threshold.. no problem." He stood abruptly and left without a farewell comment of any sort. Of course, the sergeant major was notoriously short on polite niceties. He'd managed to pare his life down to what was essential to him, not what society demanded of a typical participant.

Lifeline sighed and went back to stand in line again and get more beef. If he'd somehow inadvertently volunteered for special training, he probably would need every calorie he could stuff in. "Why do I do these things to myself? HOW do I do these things to myself? Why can't I learn to just shut up?"

"Talkin' to yourself will get you a section eight Steen.." He jumped as Finnegin elbowed him. "Ha.. got you! Where were you during hand-to-hand?"

"Medical. It got busy." He didn't offer any more information about that and instead tried to think about how to tell them he'd made Joe status. "I uhh.. I got news.." Evan and Uban leaned over to look at him from further down the line. "I made it, made the cut. General Hawk told me today, I'm a full Joe." All three blinked at him without expression. "Umm... I..."

"THAT'S GREAT!!" He was grabbed and wrestled down by Uban while Finnegin scrubbed at his hair. "Little Steen made the big leagues! Go Steen!!"

"Yeah! The wee little medic made it. Good for you." Evan tossed his empty tray onto the lane. "I don't have any appetite." He turned and left.

Uban snorted at his back. "He's just jealous that you made it before he did. We're both happy for you! You get your codename yet?"

"Yeah.. Lifeline. BeachHead came up with it." He was mauled again by Finnegin. "Hey.. get off me!" He grinned and pushed her hands off his head, rescuing his glasses and polishing them before replacing them. "I'm a little stunned." Uban handed over his tray, tossing her braid over her shoulder. "How was hand-to-hand? I miss anything?" He held out his tray. "Just beef please?" Given a hearty helping, he smiled. "Thanks! It's really good!" The cook nodded and he moved on.

Once seated and eating the generous pile of meat, he smiled at the two women who joined him. "I was a little worried that you guys wouldn't want to talk to me.. since I got promoted to a full Joe and you haven't yet."

He ducked a thrown pea. Uban laughed. "Don't be ridiculous! You're like our mascot, we loves our little medic! We'll miss you on PT and the runs. Evan isn't nearly as much fun."

All three of them suddenly looked up as Quartermaster TwoBits stopped at the table. His impassive gaze ran over all three appraisingly. "Steen, see me tomorrow morning after PT. I'll assign you a room. Nearer Medical be okay?" At his stunned nod, he got a slightly distant look as if his mind was processing information. "Good.. there's a small room.. practically a closet, you'll like it." He walked away suddenly and they all looked at each other.

Finnegin suddenly let out a muffled laugh behind her hand. "He's FREEEEEEEAKY.. I heard from Ace that he can tell you what's in Stores at any point, or tell you exactly where anyone is quartered in the whole place. It's like he's really a very clever computer instead of a person."

Lifeline snorted. "He limps.. why would a computer limp?"

Pulling off the checkered bandanna that covered her hair during the day, she tilted an eyebrow at him. "Because someone damaged one of the support limbs trying to prove it was really a human. Did you ever notice.. he's one of the only people who we never see doing PT? Shouldn't that prove that he's not a person?"

Uban leaned forward. "Well.. he may or may not be human.. but Dusty told me that SnakeEyes is practically inhuman... on this last mission they got back from.. SnakeEyes took care of an entire platoon of Vipers.. by himself."

Lifeline snorted at that as well. "You two are full of fables and stories tonight. No one takes on a whole platoon by themselves."

"I bet Sergeant major could." Uban was putting away her dinner quickly. "Sergeant major is a legend on the battlefield. Dusty has told me a bunch of stories about him.. once he got over being jealous and thinking I had the hots for him."

Finnegin and Lifeline both choked and coughed. Uban seemed pleased at the reactions. Finnegin recovered first, shaking her head. "I can't believe you said that! I mean... you and Sergeant major?" The blond tossed her head. "Oh.. no.. not that you're not pretty enough.. but.. Sergeant major?? Really? Does he even possess a sex drive?"

Lifeline cleared his throat. "I do not want to pursue that idea.. it's really disturbing.. oh god.. I need bleach to pour in my mind's eye.."

His pretty friend leaned in and spoke softly next to his ear. "What's wrong.. are you picturing me naked.. with BeachHead..."

His inarticulate sound of dismay made her laugh. "Oh dear lord.. I wasn't.. I wish I weren't... I swear.. if I'm ever supposed to give you a shot.. you'll pay.. that's soo... soooo wrong.. wrooong..." He drank down some of his milk and shook his head. "You're an awful awful girl."

Finnegin ran both hands through her hair, making it stick out in outlandish directions before she turned her attention back to the dinner. "I'm certain I'm glad I couldn't overhear whatever you just told him. Really.. no no no!!" She held up one finger to forestall any comments. "No sharing.. please. I'll need to sleep tonight."

Uban wiped her plate with a last bit of bread. "Well.. that's it for me. Early rising.. like every day. One last night in the green barracks, Steen.. I mean.. Liiiiiiifeline?"

He grinned, he just couldn't help it. He was just pleased to hear his new codename coming from someone else. "Yeah.. I guess I drag my stuff to my new room in .... the PIT!!" He laughed as they both pretended to swoon at the idea. "Okay.. so that's all for my bragging and swollen head. I'll have a busy day tomorrow.. but I think I volunteered for extra PT with BeachHead..."

Finnegin stared. "How did you do that?"

"I'm not real sure.. I mentioned that I wanted to be able to do as much as he does every day.. and then... somehow I think I'm meeting him at 0430... by the fence.. I think I might be likely to die tomorrow.."

Uban grinned happily at him. "Oh no.. Sergeant major wouldn't let you die.. he'd never be able to torture you anymore if he let you die. Extra training will do you good, I do an extra hour in the afternoons. Maybe I should start getting up extra early too."

Smiling at her irrational enthusiasm for PT and training, Lifeline finished his dinner and put his tray back. He saw Dusty in the back in an apron carrying pots and pans to wash. Even in a highly selective group like GI Joe, members got KP duty for offenses. He'd already identified some of the full Joes most likely to get into trouble. Shipwreck, Dusty and a few others were often seen doing extra PT as punishment. Speaking of extra PT, he'd better take himself to shower and bed.

Dressed in sweatpants and his old Army hoodie, he entered the barracks for his last night sleeping there. He'd miss the other guys but figured he would be seeing them in the Pit soon. Evan especially was really good at what he did, and Steen couldn't see him not making full Joe status in no time at all.

"DOG PILE!!" He yelped as he went down under a blanket and a flurry of bodies. "Get 'em guys!" No matter how much he struggled, he couldn't get out from the folds of cloth and was rather helplessly dragged back and forth and pummeled.

"Aaiigh!! Get off me!!" Steen felt himself lifted and suddenly rolled out onto the bare floor. The loud laughter surrounded him and hands grasped his arms, lifting him to his feet. "Wha-what?"

"You didn't think we'd let you go off to live in the Pit without a proper send off, do you?" Evan grabbed him in a bear hug, lifting the smaller man off his feet. "Not our favorite pacifist medic?" Landing back on his feet, Steen was pummeled again, his back slapped and his head rubbed by the other recruits. "Now that you're in the big leagues, you better not forget about us. Any of them big boy Joe's start giving you any grief, you just come let us know.. we'll squeal on them to Sergeant major and he'll punch 'em for you!" Steen laughed and Evan spread his hands in an innocent look. "What? You don't expect US to take them on, do you? Have you seen those guys? They'd smear us like small bits of jam!"

"Yeah yeah.." The medic couldn't stop grinning, the congratulations threatening to give him bruises, still it was rather touching to him that they'd miss him. "I know, you got my back Evan.. as long as it's not too dangerous, or difficult, or inconvenient... or you have something more pressing to do.. like trim your toenails.." He ducked half-heartedly when Evan grabbed him in a headlock and scuffed his hair for him. "Ow ow ow! Okay okay!!! You're the most loyal friend ever!! Just leggo!"

Everyone took the time to give him a few words, and all of them made sure to tell him that if he needed them for any reason he could call on them. There were numerous references to his 'several' girlfriends, which confused him briefly, until he realized they had decided to lump the hand-to-hand sergeant in as well, for his 'personal attentions' with the one-on-on lessons in falling, which he tried vainly to protest, mainly because he was terrified she'd hear about it and decide to beat him up.

Finally he begged off, pushing them away as they tried to fuss. "I have to be up and at the fence at 0430 or BeachHead will murder me!" He then had to admit how he'd somehow volunteered for extra PT training, and was ribbed over that as well. "Yeah I know.. but.. if I'm supposed to run out and find one of you guys wounded and carry you off the field.. I gotta be in the best shape possible, right?"

One of his fellow recruits sobered. "Yeah. And we all know you'll do it, Steen. We know we can count on you to come out and save us, if we need it."

Evan gave the guy a friendly punch. "Aww yeah.. but with Sergeant major riding us, we're not gonna die. You know why? Because we are so... very... pretty. We are just too pretty for God to let us die." Laughter broke up and Evan was shoved about in a friendly manner. The serious moment passed, as did most serious moments regarding the very real possibility of death or wounding came up among soldiers. Steen was finally allowed to climb into his bunk, everyone chattering back and forth for another half hour before it quieted and they went to sleep.

* * * *

End Chapter: Wow... that was REALLY long. But there was no good spot for a break, so there's your treat for the New Year!

Now he's a Joe.. in name. He'll need a lot more before he's a Real GI Joe though, so don't worry, the fic isn't done. He still have to learn effective hand-to-hand, and go on a mission..

Hope you're still enjoying. Lifeline is such a great character, he's been a lot of fun to show his development from a passive somewhat timid guy into what will eventually be a self-confident experienced capable GI Joe medic, while still staying the same nice pacifist inside the whole time.

One last thing... there's a somewhat obscure quote hidden in the fic. Find the CORRECT quote, and PM me with it, and where it's from, and I'll find some sort of extra time to write a prize fic! It has to be the CORRECT quote, not just a random phrase that you can match to a movie or tv show. Since I haven't had a quiz, this is more fun, and ya'll folks know every tiny detail for the quiz questions.. so let's try 'find the quote'.

Hint: It's NOT a GI Joe quote. It's not a recent show/movie. That's all the hint you're gonna get though. Lil'Beachie says you should be able to get it with only this, but he's a hard task-master.


	9. Chapter 9:Hand to Hand

Chap 9

Finally.. SnakeEyes begins teaching Lifeline(Yay he got his name!) some defense! I hope you are enjoying this. I lost a day of writing, as I dealt with plagiarism. That's a TERRIBLE thing to authors, and you should always report it when you see it!

* * * *

The promised extra work BeachHead had hinted at never materialized, as the drill instructor had disappeared during the night. Steen had arrived at the fenceline and waited for nearly an hour. Finally he'd gone on a long quiet run, and then shown up for the normal morning PT. Instead of their normal grumpy sergeant major, the recruits had faced Sergeant Stalker, who was a stocky black soldier, all business, but lacking the screaming and vigorous head thumping abilities of their regular instructor. Lifeline had been stared at for a few minutes while he preformed drill, and then sent off to move his things, since he hadn't realized he would be joining the regular Joe team in PT and exercise, instead of the recruits.

Packing up his things took about five entire minutes. BeachHead didn't conduct barracks inspections, he usually went on rampages, and anything left loose was confiscated or thrown, as his whim dictated. It took only once for the recruits to learn that one did not leave the barracks messy unless one wanted to lose everything left unsecured, and then end up cleaning not only the barracks but often other parts of the Pit best left unseen. Shining up the piping that carried sludge from the oil pits in the motorpool so that a person could read the fifty year old inscriptions from the factory had taken hours of scrubbing and wiping down, and they'd smiled the entire time they'd done it.. on orders from BeachHead who'd been irritable for reasons unknown. After going through that as punishment for leaving belongings lying around the barracks, everyone kept their things packed up neatly, out of the way, and thus, easily moved at a moment's notice.

Carrying a duffel and a footlocker, Lifeline had gone to the quartermasters department, meeting up with the strange somber man named appropriately, Two-Bits, who ran things. Within a few minutes, the medic had followed him to a closet on the same floor as Medi-bay. He'd not been joking about the tiny size, but it was private, had a nice neat bunk, and even a chair that looked rattier than anything in the rec rooms.. but was surprising comfortable once he got over his fear of something living inside it and tried sitting in it.

Now, two days later, he was arriving at the Dojo for hand-to-hand, for his instructions on falling. Scarlett was finally happy enough with his ability to fall into a roll and get to his feet in preparation to dodge or run, and so she'd begun teaching him how to anticipate a blow and roll with it or duck. He'd wait for his turn today, and maybe learn something new to practice with one of the more experienced students to one side.

Steen... Lifeline, he had to start remembering to think of himself as Lifeline... was about to step up to the mats in the gym. Sergeants Scarlett and SnakeEyes were both in attendance today, although he was certain that the commando wouldn't be participating as he was barely out of the infirmary. He was dressed out in his full commando outfit, as always. Thinking about it, Lifeline rarely remembered him wearing much else other than some version of his battle dress. Once in a while it was black BDU pants with a long sleeved shirt.. and a few times, sweatpants and a tank top to work out in. Always masked. Of course, having seen the man's face, it was no surprise that he went masked all the time.

The redhead turned to glance at him over one shoulder, and gave a nod for him to move to the side. He indulged himself with one single look over her toned fit muscles and lean body. After all, he'd had almost half a day to himself and was feeling overly rested and full of energy.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, and he whirled to see the commando in his mask standing next to him. "Geez.. good morning Sergeant SnakeEyes." He thought the man seemed amused under the cloth mask and visor, but it was hard to tell. He'd brushed up on his own ASL vocabulary so that he could communicate with the man while he was a patient. That twenty-four hour hold had lasted exactly twenty-four hours and then he was gone. Steen assumed that he'd exited through some secret passage, as he certainly hadn't seen him leave.

*I will instruct you today. It's time to begin your hand-to-hand instruction.* The commando led him to some thick mats to the side of the gym, their movements watched by several curious sets of eyes, although no one was bold enough to actually walk over to stare. Steen tried to not seem nervous as he walked with the most mysterious of the Joe team. He was pretty certain that the stories of him killing dozens of the enemy were mass exaggerations, but still.. he was a deadly fighter by anyone's standards.

"Should you be doing this? Your wounds.." Steen's concerns were obviously amusing, as the ninja tilted his head back in an exaggerated eye rolling display of disgust.

*I continued to fight when they were fresh and still bleeding. I am fit.* As if to prove his point, the commando performed a complex kata at full dazzling speed in a unneeded display of health and ability. It was the most elegant way for a person to say the phrase 'drop it' that Steen had ever seen.

"I... I've been learning to fall... I still won't fight you. My beliefs.." He was waved to one side and SnakeEyes reached upwards in a full body stretch, then motioned for him to repeat it. Lifeline began the normal stretching routine. "I haven't changed my mind.. I will only avoid an enemy.. I'm not going to attack anyone, or defend myself by violence."

*I will teach you something useful. If someone punches you in the head, and they break a knuckle.. is that you attacking them, or them being hurt through their own violent actions?*

"Well, that's their fault obviously.."

*If someone tries to punch you, and you duck, and they miss and fall down and break their wrist.. is that you attacking them?*

"No.. but.."

*If someone tries to hit you, and you dodge and they hit a wall behind you... or they throw a punch at you and you push their arm aside so it misses... is that okay?* Steen really got the idea that the ninja was going to somehow trick him into fighting.. and he wasn't falling for it one bit.

"Of course all of that isn't me attacking them.. but that's different than fighting. I won't learn to fight people and hurt them." He hoped his tone was firm and sounded as he was full of righteous resolve to stick to his personal beliefs and not that he was terrified that this lean dangerous man would lose patience with him and break him into small bits of pacifist medic and feed him to the other recruits as a lesson.

*I will teach you a new way to dodge, and as you learn each step, you will see whether it fits within your beliefs. Have we asked you to do anything violent? Do you trust me as your instructor?* SnakeEyes stood there, relaxed and fit, and not showing any sign that he'd been laid up in the infirmary with disabling wounds only a short while ago. Instead he looked like he could take on half the Pit without any worry, and possibly without breaking a sweat.

"I trust you, and I would be honored to learn from you." He gave a short bow, which he hoped was proper and correct way to show his respect.. and not a invitation to begin some sort of murderous violence that would decapitate someone.

The ninja stepped up and motioned the slender medic to move to the center of the mat. Through mime and repetitive motions, he conveyed the idea of Steen ducking to the side, but not moving his lower body. Then SnakeEyes nodded and reached a fist back, and threw it at Steen's head slowly, allowing him to understand how to move aside. When he began to lift one leg to step completely aside, SnakeEyes snapped his fingers and pointed for it to stay in place. He began again, his fist brushing past Lifeline's head easily, his body continuing in the attack and his thigh hit Steen's now-outstretched leg, and he made a theatric stumble, using his hands to make a tumbling motion towards the edge of the mat to indicate he would fall down in real time motion.

*Can you do that? You do not hit or kick me.. you simply stand.. and allow me to... " The ninja suddenly paused and coughed slightly a few times as he signed. *Allow me to trip over you as my attack fails.. and then I'll fall down.. leaving you standing unharmed.*

Steen considered this a few seconds. Technically.. it was no different than him ducking and his attacker tripping over him.. only this was really a learned move.. it felt like he was learning to fight. But he could hardly call ducking away from someone trying to punch him an offensive action in any way. So.. he nodded at the commando who hopped in place twice, seemingly pleased and stationed himself in front of the medic in a slight crouch. "Okaaaay... so.. now you'll do it faster?"

SnakeEyes nodded and cocked a fist back in a classic attacker pose. Compared the the martial artist's normal smooth gliding form, it looked almost cheesey and fake, but then.. most attackers were not experienced commando ninjas, so Steen guessed this was correct. When Steen settled into place, the commando threw his punch, although it wasn't a full blow, or all that fast. He easily ducked to the side, although he felt his foot slide a bit aside, he stopped moving enough for SnakeEyes to mostly trip over his extended leg. As expected the ninja was back in place and pointing at his errant leg.

"Sorry.. I'll get it.. it's just natural to move out of your way.. I really have this self-preservation things about being steamrolled by scary ninjas." Again, SnakeEyes coughed softly at him and then posed for him. The second try went smoother, and after several tries, Lifeline was able to automatically duck to the side and let his 'attacker' fly past, stumbling over him as he went. SnakeEyes clapped his hands a few times, obviously pleased with his most feeble of students.

*Very good.* He paused. *Would it be offensive to... push me on my way at all?*

Steen hummed to himself. "If I push, then I'm hitting.. if you trip and fall, it's your own actions."

He felt like he'd disappointed his teacher as he saw a slight sag come over the rangy frame. He opened his mouth to apologize and was waved silent. *It is fine. Defensive moves. Now you learn a new one... this is more blocking than ducking..*

After his hour was done, SnakeEyes ran him through all three of his new lessons, then threw him around a few times to show that he still understood how to fall correctly. Once he'd slung the smaller man down onto the mats and watched him roll to the side and come to his feet properly a few times, he backed off. He gave him a double clap of approval and strode off past Scarlett who gave him a bright smile before she focused on the medic.

"You'll still attend this class, instead of the advanced classes that most of the full Joe team attend. Frankly, everything we'll be working on with you is beginner's stuff, and I can't see anything SnakeEyes will be coming up with for you being even mid-level. Easier to use the recruits or greenshirts as your sparring partners when needed. It's a pity that you won't bother to even learn unarmed combat, it'd be a lot more useful than having you out on a battlefield needing us to haul you out of trouble." Her good-natured tone didn't hide the barb in the comments completely, and he ducked his head.

He wanted to please his trainers, and he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry.. I just don't.."

"Save it. Just don't get anyone killed out there. Be a real pity if you were supposed to be saving our butts and instead you dragged someone down with you." He watched her walk to the side, and begin talking with SnakeEyes. The commando was signing at her with some agitation, and he saw his codename being formed once. The two instructors were probably griping about his refusal to fight, and Steen turned aside and left. He'd be needed in the infirmary, and expected there in only half an hour. Just enough time to shower and change.

He had gone halfway up to the surface before he remembered his new quarters and retraced his steps. The shower on the infirmary level were used only by the rare patient, or on duty staff for unexpected needs. He went down the stairs to the lower level and showered there, running back upstairs to his room to change into a generic paramedic jumpsuit. Then he ran down the corridor to arrive one minute before his shift, pleased with the fact that he'd rushed and run so much in half an hour and wasn't even breathing hard. BeachHead's training really had made a huge difference already. Reminded of his missing instructor, he walked down to Doc's office, rapping on the doorframe since the door stood open.

"Steen.. I mean.. Lifeline. Sorry, just got used to calling you by name. Come in. Did you get moved to a room? Did TwoBits get you a compatible roommate? You can ask to switch if you get stuck with someone you don't like, don't let him fool you with his stern 'you'll sleep where you're put' routine." Lifeline had to smile at the physician's good mood.

"No.. no.. actually I don't have a roommate. If I did, he'd have to sleep on the ceiling. I'm in a tiny spot on this floor."

Doc groaned and put a hand over his eyes. "Oh no.. he did NOT put you in the broom closet?? I've told him time and time again, not to put people in that stupid.." He sighed. "I'll send a note to tell him to move you to a room. He tries this about every six months or so. Ace runs a betting pool to see how long the person will stay there before they catch on." Steen felt himself blush in embarrassment. "Oh don't feel foolish.. it's all part of the routine around here. One more weird thing that the Joe's do. You'll get used to it."

"Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be accepted here by anyone." Steen swallowed nervously. He shouldn't have said that.. it seemed too whiny. "I don't... I mean.. I appreciate everything, and I'm honored to serve... but I think a lot of the people here just think I'll be a useless drag on the team." There. He'd stated it outright, might as well hear Doc's opinion on it too.

He heard a loud snort of disbelief. "Don't be stupid." The doctor looked up at him from the paper he was writing out. "Most of the Joes won't care, as long as you're there to patch them up when they're bleeding, you could be a purple people eater much less just a pacifist. Once you start treating them in here, and you get out on a couple missions, and they see you are a good medic, then you'll see them relax."

"I hope so."

* * * *

A few days went by, and Steen had a roommate and a new room. It was a good deal larger than the prank closet, which he'd been ribbed about by several of the Joes. Ace seemed a bit disappointed that he'd only stayed there a day, but was mollified when he discovered Doc had interfered. Apparently he would have been angry that someone narced to the prankee, but it being Doc, that fell by the wayside. No Joe member seemed willing to cross the head doctor.

His new roommate had been in residence when he arrived. Having been told that his name was "Sticks", he'd expected a thin individual. Instead, he'd found a heftily muscled intern from the infirmary. Sticks had given him a grin and explained that he'd been given his codename solely because he was nearly incapable of hitting a vein with a iv needle the first time, thus had to 'stick' his patients multiple times. He definitely was not a favorite intern. He was a likable young man however, and perfectly willing to share quarters.

Instead of the traditional bunks, they each had a small single bed, and Steen quickly found out the Sticks only had one quirk. "Don't sit on my bed." had been repeated at least eighteen times in the first evening, just in case he missed the request. Steen determined he'd never even touch the guy's bed, just in case. Instead he put away his gear and clothing, made his bed up neatly and got two extra blankets against the inherent chill in the underground base.

There was still no sign of the missing PT instructor. BeachHead had been gone for over a week. Instead Sergeant Stalker ran PT most mornings, although Flint took charge twice. He ran every morning along the fence to start his day off, and took PT with the Joe team instead of the recruits. He still attended the hand-to-hand with the recruits, although Uban and Evan were both moved to advanced classes. Without BeachHead around, he didn't get to run live victim drills, although he could have requested volunteers to play victim, he wasn't certain enough of his standing with the team to ask any of the full Joes to help him out. Instead, he kept his head down and did what everyone else did. If he had time after he got off his daily shift in the infirmary, he'd go work out in the gym.

His dinner meal was the time he got to relax, as Finnegin and Uban would join him for an hour or so. On occasion Evan would unbend enough to sit with them as well, although he was slowly being accepted in with the rest of the Joe infantrymen. There was a great deal of stiff legged sniffing and circling going on among the group as the newest guys tried to fit in. Uban was nearly universally admired as her good nature combined with her abilities as a ground unit made her a good fit with nearly any of the Joe team. LowLight continued to groom her as a new sniper, and took her on both of his range days for special training.

Finnegin spent a lot of her time with the pilots. Anyone who was willing to either talk about planes, or listen while they talked about planes was welcomed by the Joe pilots regardless of sex, looks, reputation, or training. The fact that Finnegin was a good pilot, a really nice looking woman, and well-spoken to boot, meant she could always find a spot to sit or eat or hang out.

Lifeline on the other hand, was left to himself mostly. On occasion he'd be jostled or bumped into while running PT, or in line somewhere. A few disparaging comments were overheard about his refusal to pick up a weapon. In medical, he was fitting in pretty well. The interns seemed friendly enough, although everyone was still stepping around each other warily, as they decided exactly where in the line he stood. Doc seemed to want him second in command after himself, and Lifeline supposed that's where he would end up.

"Hey Steen... Lifeline!" His name caught his attention as he entered the messhall. "Here you doofus!" He caught sight of Uban and Finnegin waving and took his tray over to sit at their table, nodding agreeably at Dusty who was seated happily next to Uban. The leggy blond pushed the pepper over to him as he got settled.

"Hey Lifeline. The veggies need pepper." She watched him shaking the spices onto his food. "Hey.. you haven't heard anything about Sergeant major have you?"

Lifeline looked up at her quickly. "No, have you?" She shook her head and went back to poking at her food. "I asked Flint.. but he said I should just enjoy the time until he gets back. Warrant officer Flint doesn't seem to like Sergeant major very much though." He stirred his food. "I asked Doc, and he said not to worry, that BeachHead would be back when he got back. I don't know if it's a top secret mission or what. I hope he's okay." He began to eat quickly, making quick work of the vegetables and starting on the beef slices.

Finnegin shook her head. "I asked around, and everyone is mum. No word. No one seems to think it's unusual though. Sergeant SnakeEyes just came back recently, and LadyJaye just left for some sort of intelligence gathering mission too."

Uban sighed and fiddled with her braid a little bit. "I just worry. Why would they send him off by himself? What if something went wrong? Would we ever get told anything?" She nudged Dusty who looked surprised. "Dusty! Do you know anything?"

He swallowed. "Nothing much. But don't worry, they drop BeachHead off in some gnarley spots, he always makes it back. Shoot.. Lifeline will probably be first to see him back, he's usually gotta have some stitches or bullets dug outa him. You'll see, he'll be back shortly, bellowing and smelling just like always. He's tough." He seemed startled when Uban elbowed him hard.

She pushed him a second time. "What are you talking about!? They wouldn't just throw him into a dangerous situation would they!? I mean.. I know no one seems to like Sergeant major.. but.. why would they send him off into something where he could get hurt?"

Dusty frowned at her looking confused. "Why? It's what we do, Uban. You know that. I told you stories about what BeachHead is like on the field, why are you acting all weird over it now?" He caught another smack. "Hey!"

"Those were just stories! I didn't think that.. well.. Sergeant major is an instructor, and he might take minor command spots on a battlefield.. but.. but I didn't think they'd just dump him into somewhere dangerous like that." She pushed her tray across the table and Lifeline pushed it back gently.

He gave her a little bit of a smile. "Eat your dinner. Worrying won't change anything. I'm sure BeachHead is fine. He's a big scary guy. He can handle whatever they have him doing."

Dusty nodded and laughed at her. "Oh yeah.. Beach'll do fine. Heck, he probably got dropped into a hairy situation and either shouted everyone into place, shot everyone who wouldn't get into place, or pinned half the people under his arm until they gave in to get away from the smell." His grin vanished when Uban slammed an elbow into his ribs and got up to leave. "Ow!! Hey, what was that for!?"

Finnegin shook her head. "She's worried. You shouldn't have made fun like that, Dusty. What if Sergeant major really is hurt or worse? That's not really funny at all." She got up and followed her friend, and Dusty rubbed his side and sighed heavily watching the two leave.

Once they were out of sight he turned to the medic. "Well, that didn't go well. Guess I'm in the doghouse for a while. Crazy women, what you gonna do?"

Lifeline shook his head. "Don't ask me. The most meaningful relationship I have with a female is Sergeant Scarlett, and I think that's borderline domestic violence the way she tosses me around the mats. At least.. it's leaving bruises."

Dusty's face went pale and he looked around frantically. "Shut up!! Geez!! Ix-nay on the Arlott-say talk! Are you NUTS?! You don't even JOKE about that.. good lord.. what if SnakeEyes caught you? He'd do some horrible ninja-y thing that left nothing but your fingernails and dog tags in a hallway somewhere.. and since I was here when you said it, he might get me next!" His looked all around again, searching the messhall.

Lifeline looked as well. "What are you going on about? Why would he care? Who are you looking for? He's not here."

Dusty lowered his voice to nearly inaudible. "SnakeEyes and Scarlett are.. you know.. an item. Do you really want to seem interested in the most deadly ninja in the world's GIRLFRIEND? If she doesn't kill you, he will. Only when he does it, it'll be something really terrible! And you don't know if he's here or not.. he's a ninja, he could be right here somewhere close.. we wouldn't ever see him!"

Now Lifeline sighed at him. "Oh come on.. you're not serious about that ninja stuff. I know everyone keeps saying it, but ninjas aren't really real like THAT. He's a really great commando, but a real ninja?" He scoffed. "It's not like he can vanish and really kills scores of men in a battle. That's ridiculous."

The desert trooper stared at him. "You're certifiable. Everyone knows Snakes is a master ninja, haven't you seen him training with Jinx? I know you haven't seen him in battle yet. Anyway.." He picked up his tray and stood. "I gotta go see if I can make nice with Uban. Otherwise I won't be getting any for the foreseeable future. Just my luck, BeachHead will get back before I can get her to kiss and make up. Then it'll take twice as long."

"Good luck Dusty.. hey.." The trooper paused to look at him. "Be concerned about Sergeant major.. she's pretty worried over him for real."

Dusty grinned and nodded. "Got it." He gave the medic a thumb's up and left with a bit more spring in his step. Lifeline put his tray away and went to the gym to work out. On his walk, he spotted the black-clad ninja striding along the hallway.

"SnakeEyes..." He stopped and stepped aside to let the taller man pass, carrying two bags of gear. The ninja paused to look down at him.

*I'm leaving on a mission, you do stretches and practice the moves I've taught you instead of our training time, I have to go kill people.* He took a few steps further down the hall and then turned back to sign at the stunned medic. *Don't oogle Scarlett.* He pointed at him, then at his own eyes. Then he turned and strode off, looking more deadly than ever before.

Lifeline started to breathe again. "Ninjas...." He turned and walked on to the gym numbly. "Noooo Scarlett... got it... "

* * * *


	10. Chapter 10: Mission

Chap 10

It's about time Lifeline was sent on a mission. KUDOS to Strapakai who correctly predicted he should be sent out, AND even correctly predicted what his mission would be! (I already had this written, so it was startling to think you were inside my head!).

See? I hadn't forgotten out favorite medic! I usually have around 5 fics that I'm working on at once, so that I always have a variety of fics to write on, depending on my mood. If any fic seems to have been left behind, feel free to PM me and ask about it's status!

Again, I do not own GI Joe, nor do I make any funds from my writing, it's pure pleasure and enjoyment! Please enjoy, and please review if you are so inclined, I love to hear from readers, and many of my fics or chapters are born of plot bunnys hatched from reviews or PMs.

* * * *

Lifeline was shaken awake in his snug warm bed. "Get up.." He sat up, struggling to clear his head.

"What's going on?" He swung his legs off the bed, grasping for clothing to pull on. "Medical emergency?" Fastening his glasses onto his face he stood and grabbed for his boots. "Flint?"

The warrant officer stood impatiently. "You're being sent out on a standard extraction mission. First mission.. gear up for a jungle trek, medical bag. Sticks, go back to sleep." The intern sat up in bed, but stayed silent. "Get a move on, medic."

"Yes sir!" He finished lacing the boots and jumped to his feet. "What sort of extraction, so I know what sort of medical supplies to pack?"

Flint strode down the dimly lit hallway. "You're extracting BeachHead from South America.. you got twenty minutes to be in the motorpool."

Lifeline stood for a moment then dashed off for the infirmary.

* * * *

When he climbed into their transport plane he looked around with interest. It was DC-3 smaller cargo plane. If they were really going all the way to somewhere in South America, they'd need a stop-over for fueling. He set aside his two bags, and looked up as Scarlett and a new Joe he hadn't met entered the plane behind him.

"Hey.. you must be our new medic!" The mustachioed figure gave him a broad smile. "Recondo.. jungle warfare expert." He looked the slightly built medic up and down. "Well.. you won't take up much room, then, will you?"

"Uhh.. nice to meet you.. Lifeline, I'm the medic, yes." He moved aside when Scarlett pushed past him.

"He's a pacifist, so don't expect him to be much help. He won't even carry your gun for you." She snatched up his medical bag and shoved it into the cargo netting. "Secure the bags, medic."

He nodded and tucked it in securely, and picked up the second bag to put it into the cargo netting as well. "Yes sergeant!"

She glared at the secondary bag. "What's that?"

"Change of clothing.." She rolled her eyes and snorted at him, moving up to the cockpit to check with the pilot.

Scarlett's voice was muffled by the cockpit wall. "Dogfight.. you ready for take-off.. we're loaded." The engines cranked up and they started to roll. Lifeline strapped into a jump seat next to Recondo. Scarlett came back and yanked both of their straps to check then got into her own seat. "Our pilot is Dogfight.. he's a great flier, good man. We'll make two refueling stops, just stopping long enough to refuel and then take right back off, no leaving the plane for either of you, understand?" Her gaze fixed on the medic.

"Yes sergeant." He saw the disdain in her eyes.

Recondo turned to him and shouted over the engine noise as they took off. "Hey.. sorry I didn't get to meet you before this mission. I've been over in Africa.. deep Congo. I don't stay in the Pit often, so good to meet you." Lifeline shook his hand gingerly. "We always need good medics.. especially a field medic.. you're really a pacifist?"

He nodded and raised his voice to be heard. "Yes sir.. umm.. "

The man doffed his hat briefly and smoothed his hair. "Sergeant.. but you can just call me Recondo, I don't stand much on ceremony." He pressed the hat back into place. "You'll find most of the Joes don't particularly care about the rank stuff as much." He leaned back in the seat and wriggled slightly to get comfortable. "Get some shut-eye.. it's a long flight."

"Yeah.. some twenty-three hours before we land in the middle of nowhere Brazil." Scarlett handed over a map to Lifeline. "We're to land on a bush-strip, Dogfight stays with the plane on guard, while the three of us go in, meet up with BeachHead here.." She pointed at a remote location. "Then it's either going on to the base he's been investigating or back to the airstrip and leave." She tapped the airstrip on the map. "You're gonna be the medic for the trip, otherwise, just stay out of the way. This isn't a pleasure hike. There won't be chances for camping or changing clothing or picture taking. This is going to be a forced speed march, and most likely a firefight at the end of it. If you can't handle it, stay with the plane."

He nodded at her. "I'll be fine. I'll carry an extra pack if it'll free up you to carry your weapons." She narrowed her gaze but nodded. "We're going to be in amazonian jungle, right? Not the plains?"

"Yes. Deep uncharted jungle once we get a couple miles from the airstrip. That's why we called in Recondo. He's the best guy for jungle treks. We'd have sent him instead of BeachHead if he'd been available at the time. That and it was time to get rid of Beach for a week or so anyway." She sat back, folding the map and tucking it away in a pouch.

"Why would you want to get rid of BeachHead? I mean.. you Joes just don't seem to like him much." Lifeline leaned back a little bit. "He's not a bad guy.. he's just.. strict.. and.. focused.. loud.. smelly.."

Scarlett finally let out a short laugh. "Yes.. well. It's not because we don't LIKE BeachHead. It's to force trainees that are close to making Joe status to rely on themselves, and not to hide behind their instructor. We've found that the trainees begin to follow the instructors, and then they aren't standing on their own. Remove the instructor, and they either begin to show that they're a slacker, become undisciplined, or they show they're really Joe material. If someone needs BeachHead to ride them constantly to do their job, then we don't need them on the Joe team. Got it?" She fastened a hard look on him. "You get told this for two reasons.. one.. you're already a full Joe. Two.. you haven't slacked off since BeachHead's been gone."

"No sergeant. I wouldn't slack off. I need to do more.. I gotta be better. I don't want to fall down on the job." He took a deep breath. "Over twenty hours?" She nodded. "Can I unbuckle? I want to go through the medical packs, and rearrange some of the stuff."

"Yeah.. do whatever you need to. Get some rest too, because we won't be resting once we land in Brazil, not until we're back on the plane. Got it?"

"Got it."

* * * *

Recondo shook him awake eventually. Other than landing for fuel, they'd been in the air forever. Lifeline had checked the time twice to be sure it really was forever, and not just almost forever. He'd repacked the medical supplies after rummaging through the standard packs from the plane to be certain he had the best supplies for the possible injuries he might expect.

He straightened up from where he'd slumped over in the jump seat, held in place by the straps. "Almost there?"

"Yup.. gear up.. we'll be landing in twenty.." The jungle expert hefted his rifle and moved towards the front to continue putting his cartridges into the various pockets and pouches. While Scarlett fastened her quiver into place and loaded her rifle, Recondo finished packing his bag up and Lifeline set his heavy pack upright, double-checking all the straps. It would be a long heavy trek through bad territory, but with all the training he'd been doing, he was certain he could keep up.

Dogfight's voice came through the intercom system. "We're about to go in for landing.. check out the airstrip to your left.."

Lifeline peered out the window. "That's an airstrip? That's crazy! I've seen flatter cow fields!" Recondo laughed. "Well, it'll be an exciting landing I bet.."

"Heck.. that's a paved airport compared to some of the puddles we drop on. No worries here.." Recondo suddenly racked the slide on his rifle. "Red.. you hot? We got movement in the treeline.. Dogfight!! You see movement?!"

"I got movement on the north flat.. in the bush.." The pilot continued the descent. "Should I abort the landing?"

Scarlett looked through the windows. "Circle once.."

Lifeline shouted. "No! There's BeachHead! At the east end.. I saw him! He's in the brush up at the east end!" Scarlett moved to his window to peer out. "There.. by those four large trees.. he's in the brush.."

Scarlett made a quick calculation. "Dogfight... circle.. come in for a landing from the west.. be prepared for a touch-and-go.."

Lifeline looked after her. "But.. but.. that was Sergeant major!"

She snapped irritably. "I saw that.. we're not endangering three Joes if the position isn't feasible.. BeachHead would be the first to call me senseless for doing that, and you know it. Get out of the way.. better yet.." She gave him a shove towards the rear of the plane. "When we touch down, open the door. If we do a touch-and-go, be prepared to yank it shut though.." She grabbed up her own rifle. "Recondo.. where are the hostiles?"

"Mostly northwest... " Recondo moved along the body of the plane. "Lifeline.. get on the floor.. otherwise, you'll get thrown down.. break a limb.." The plane descended and the medic got beside the door, going to hands and knees as instructed. "Good man.. throw that latch the instant we're down.."

The DC-3 bounced slightly as it touched down. Lifeline barely avoided smacking his face into the floor on the first bounce. Recondo went to one knee, and Scarlett stayed in a crouch on her feet. He supposed that constant training with a ninja had it's advantages.

When he felt the wheels rolling instead of bouncing, Lifeline stood and wrenched the door latches, swinging the door wide. Their speed slowed dramatically as they taxied down the runway. Recondo poked the end of his rifle out, watching the treeline. They neared the end of the runway, slowing down.

Lifeline shouted. "BeachHead!! He's there!!" He leaned to look out the window opposite the door and saw the Sergeant major come pelting out of the brush behind them. "He's.. he's waving us off... I think he wants us to take off.. if we stop.. we can pick him up.. why isn't he running to the plane?!"

Scarlett pushed him down to look out of the small port window. "Dogfight!! Turn and go!! Turn and burn it!! One-eighty NOW!" Lifeline felt the plane turning at the end of the bush strip. "Keep the door open.. Recondo, watch the treeline.. fire at will when you see hostiles.."

Lifeline saw the sergeant waving for them to take off. "BeachHead.. he's.. why aren't we stopping for him? Why isn't he running to here?" He heard the engines rev and the plane completed the turn and headed back along the runway. "Aren't we stopping to get Sergeant major?"

Scarlett shook her head. "No.. he's waving for us to take back off.. he knows the situation better than we do.. we stop, he's likely to shoot us himself out of annoyance that we didn't do what he said. GO DOGFIGHT!" She suddenly cursed and moved to the door. "Give him some cover fire!"

Lifeline raised up and watched the sergeant running at top speed at an angle across the air strip. "He's gonna run in front of the plane!! We'll run him over!"

Recondo fired an AK-47 in short bursts, kneeling next to the door. "He's running to intercept us.. Scarlett.. get the ones at two o'clock.." He fired again, dropping two ratty dressed men who came running out towards the plane. Lifeline watched the small figure in the green mask running upright, no dodging, no ducking, trusting that the cover fire would be adequate. He held the rifle in both hands, pelting along at a remarkable speed.

Lifeline spoke to the figure quietly.. not seeing how he could make it to the plane.. much less get on board the speeding aircraft. "Come on, BeachHead.. " Scarlett booted him sideways and knelt in his spot to fire at another revolutionary who had been aiming a rocket launcher at them. She stood up again and Lifeline moved back to just inside the door, ready to yank it shut when they took off, praying his instructor would somehow pull off a miracle and get on the plane. "He's not going to make it.. we're gonna hit him, we're gonna run him down.."

Scarlett shouted wordlessly as BeachHead stumbled slightly on a clump of grass. The Ranger recovered and put on a burst of speed as bullets ripped the ground around him. Recondo silenced those guns with a few rounds from his AK-47. He raced for the aircraft, running as if he was going to intercept the front of the plane. Lifeline saw him coming in at a flat-out run.

"Good lord... duck Beach!!" He saw the Ranger duck his head under the wingtip as it passed overhead, then the medic was ducking as the held rifle came flying in through the doorway as Beach threw it into the plane ahead of him. Lifeline picked his head up just in time to see the man take a impossible leap for the door. His body smashed into the lower edge of the doorway, his legs swinging underneath, threatening to drag his grasping hands back out. Lifeline made a wild lunge to grab at his arms. "No way!! Get in here!!" If he fell, he'd probably break his neck at the speed the plane was rolling. He dragged at the heavy weight. BeachHead struggled to hold on to the frame, kicking his legs to lever himself up. Bullets hit the plane around the door, ricocheting inside around all of them. Lifeline ignored all of the gunfire, reaching to grab onto the back piece of Beach's body armor, planting one foot on the side of the door and heaving with every bit of strength he'd built over the past month. All two hundred pounds of soaked, filthy Ranger landed on top of the medic as he fell backwards into the plane. "Got you!"

BeachHead didn't pause, scrambling over top of Lifeline to get further into the plane. "You're safe! It's okay!" As he rolled over to reassure the crawling man, he saw the sergeant snatch up the thrown M-16 instead and drag it back to the doorway, bringing it to his shoulder and firing in a smooth motion.

Even as he squeezed off a triple burst towards some of the men emerging from the trees, he shouted loudly. "Take off!! TAKE OFF!! They got hand-held missile launchers!! GO GO!!!" His hoarse shouts must have carried to the cockpit and the engines raced, the plane gaining speed. All three Joe's fired at the attackers swarming out of the brush along the runway. Lifeline reached to grab the back of BeachHead's armor as he leaned out of the plane's door. Scarlett and Recondo stood to either side of the open door, while BeachHead knelt, leaning out to fire below their level. Fewer rounds impacted the aircraft as they gained speed. "We're running outa space.. get us off the danged ground!!!" At the last possible second, the wheels lifted off and the plane actually clipped the top branches as it left the airstrip behind.

BeachHead sat back as the open ground disappeared under them. Lifeline reached to grab at the door, dragging it shut and dogging the latches tightly shut. He turned and sat against the door, staring at everyone. "Anyone wounded?? Anyone hit??"

Scarlett and Recondo both shouted negatives at him. BeachHead shook his head. "Get us outa here!"

Lifeline moved quickly up to the cockpit to check their pilot. "You hit? You okay?"

Dogfight gave him a grin and a thumb's up. "All okay up here. We pick up our Sergeant major? Or do I need to circle back around for another pass through the shooting gallery?"

Lifeline shook his head in disbelief. "No.. we got him." He walked back to the rear, checking again with Scarlett and Recondo. "BeachHead.. where are you hurt?"

The Ranger shook his head, moving to the ammo boxes. "We got any two-twenty-three rounds? I got one partial clip in this thing.." Scarlett grabbed a metal ammo case and put it on the floor. "Good.. how about forty-five? And magazines for my forty-five.. I only got two.."

The redhead reached to pull a second box, and held out her hand. "Here.. no magazines, Recondo and I carry nine millimeter sidearms.. " He pulled a handgun out and gave it to her, digging a clip out of a waist pouch. She dropped the clip out of the gun and quickly reloaded both with rounds out of the box. He filled a rifle magazine he'd gotten out of a thigh pocket, then dropped the one out of his rifle and slammed the newly loaded one into place. Setting the rifle aside, he began methodically loading rounds into more magazines he got out of his pouches and pockets, dropping his torn-up backpack to the side and rummaging in the still intact side pockets to get two additional clips to reload them.

Lifeline put a hand onto his shoulder. "Beach.. where are you hurt? That can wait.. we're in the air."

BeachHead shrugged his hand off. "You don't wait to reload.. might be too late later on.. my boo-boos can wait a few more minutes. Red, I need clips for the forty-five.."

Scarlett shook her head. "Can't help you, Beach. Nine millimeters just don't fit.. if you'd carry a nine like everyone else.. wouldn't have this issue. Don't you carry more than two magazines for it?"

He cursed softly, finishing the last magazine and beginning to put the reloaded clips into the torn pack before cursing at it and tossing it aside. "I ain't gotta shoot nobody more than once to put 'em down with a forty-five.. I need a pack.."

Recondo pulled down a canvas bag from the cargo net. "Here.." The Ranger shoved his clips into it, then got up to rack his rifle into the slots on the wall. Scarlett handed his pistol back and he dropped the clip out, checked it and slapped it back into place before holstering it.

"Okay.. okay.. 'preciate it, Scarlett. We headed back to the big PX? Ain't nothing here for us." He sat onto the floor where he was, chest still heaving from his run. He looked up at Scarlett, resting his forearms on his raised knees. "That base ain't. It was abandoned at least a year ago.. I blew the danged thing up just on general principles anyway. Apparently the local revolutionaries took great offense at that." He reached to rub at one arm. "Probably 'cause they was using part of it as a base.. " The Ranger took a really deep breath, making a visible effort to slow his breathing rate. "Hey Steen.. they let you out ona mission? What the heck was you draggin' on my back for? Think I was gonna jump back outa the plane?" He grinned under the muddy facemask.

Lifeline set his medical pack down on the floor and knelt down. "No.. I was afraid you'd get shot and fall out of the door.. I didn't want to tell Dogfight that he needed to land us again just to pick you up a second time." He motioned at him. "You want to show me where you're hurt now?"

BeachHead shook his head. "Not really, but I figure you'll just bug me until I give in, right?" He reached to drag the balaclava off of his head, shaking it to remove some of the mud and twigs. "I ain't been shot no where. Just picked up a few cuts 'n scrapes, and I got a nasty infected thorn in my waist.. just under the danged chest plate.."

Lifeline reached to get the second pack down. "I'll tell you what.. you let me check you out.. and I'll give you the clean clothing I brought for you." He turned and held the bag up. "Sound like a good deal?"

BeachHead's eyebrows hit his hairline. "You brought me a change of clothes?"

Lifeline shook the bag temptingly. "I even packed dry clean socks."

Beach tilted his head sideways. "You have dry socks? Marry me." He held out a hand. Scarlett came back to stare at the medic. "Hey Red.. how come you never brought me no danged dry socks?"

She looked at him, then turned back to Lifeline. "The clothes were for BeachHead?"

He turned his face to her, confused. "Well.. yes. You don't think I'd bring a change of clothing for myself when we weren't supposed to be here more than a day or two, did you?" He reached to unbuckle the body armor, ignoring the mud and bits of vegetation. "Let me get this stuff off of you Beach.."

The sergeant major got up on his knees and helped get the armor pulled off. "Yeah well.. Red, if you don't want to see the Ranger strip show.. you better go up front.." He peeled off the soaked green sweater, tossing it aside in a sloppy heap. "That is danged rotten.. I'm tellin' ya.. I ain't been dry since the first day I got here. Ended up in a river.. soaked my boots, then it danged well rained the whole time I been here. You got something to eat? I ain't ate in four, five days.."

Recondo moved back just in time to overhear him. "I got some MREs, they aren't self-heating though.. you'd have to eat them cold."

BeachHead snorted and stood up to unfasten his fatigue pants. "Right now, I'd eat raw monkey if'n I could catch one of the little bastards. I hate monkeys." He glanced at the woman. "I'm not kidding Scarlett.. if you just got a need to see me nekkid.. you hang out here another thirty seconds.. you'll get an eyeful." She turned and moved up to the cockpit, muttering under her breath. "Geez.. did you pack me a pair of shorts? I don't really care.. I'll go without.." He took the clean dry underwear and sighed. "I think I'm in looooove.. "

Lifeline shook his head, reaching to run one hand over the sergeant's side where an angry wound was seeping pus and fluid. "Good lord, it's just dry clothing. To think I've believed it took love and commitment to have a marriage proposal.. " He pressed lightly on the red spot. "This is infected but it's draining well. Here.." He wet down a cloth and wiped over it. "Here.. just wipe down, get some of the filth off yourself before you put on dry clothing. You have another nasty scrape here.. this should have been under the armor.. how'd you get it? Take off the armor to sleep?"

The Ranger shook his head, using the wet cloth to clean up quickly. "I don't take off that armor in hostile territory, and I ain't really slept since I landed. Well, except about an hour in a tree." He looked up as Recondo came back with a MRE pack. "Oh thank gawd, my belly is about to eat my own spine out."

The jungle trooper shook his head. "Didn't you pack food? I've never known you to not carry proper supplies Beach. Two clips for your sidearm, and no food? Did you get dropped on your head sometime after the last time I saw you?"

BeachHead shifted and hissed as Lifeline wiped disinfectant over the minor wounds. "OW!! Dang it.. that's from armor bite, by the way. My armor needs adjusting right there, and with the clothing under it wet.. it just kept rubbing and pinching my side. Rubbed right through my hide, and I got thick skin." He stood back up to put on the dry pants. "And yeah.. I packed extra clips and packed food. I dropped three magazines as empties while I was on the run in the jungle. Couldn't stop to pick 'em up. Last clip I had, a danged monkey picked outa my pocket when I was hiding in the brush. Somewhere in the amazon, there's some danged monkey running around with a fully loaded forty-five clip." Recondo laughed at that.

The Ranger sat to pull on the dry socks. "So.. the food... second day I ran into a pack of feral pigs. They got my pack, I got up a tree. I figured that was a fair trade. Problem was, they wouldn't leave, had me treed for sixteen hours. I tried to throw stuff at 'em, that jus' made 'em mad. So I got comfy, and then I dozed off. Fell right outa the danged tree. You ever wake up on your way to the ground? Ain't pleasant. Lucky for me, the pigs had done moved on. They ripped up my pack, and got most of my food. I had some dried beef in my pocket.. but it got soaked through when I went into the river. I laid it out when it started gettin' too spoilt to eat. Figured I'd try to dry it out. Danged monkeys stole it all. I hate monkeys. They're like little furry ninjas.. stealin' everything that ain't nailed down."

Lifeline finished putting a bandage over each of the wounds, having cleaned them thoroughly. "Why didn't you shoot the pigs? Or the monkeys?"

Beach snorted. "Couldn't take the chance that Cobra operatives wouldn't hear the shots. Can't disguise a M-16 shot, and I didn't know that the base I was lookin' for was abandoned. Cobra sees some pigs with cammie cloth on their snorts, they might think it was surplus from the surroundin' countryside, but they would'a tended to come check out gunshots in person. Where's that food?" Recondo handed him a opened MRE pouch. "Thanks... gawd.. food.."

He began to gulp down the cold stew. Lifeline sat back. "Sergeant major.. will you let me start a iv on you?" He got glared at. "I know.. but you're dehydrated and you'll need antibiotics. If you let me start the iv, you can sleep while you get some fluids, you'll feel a lot better and I can give you a start on the antibiotics. By the time we get back to base, you won't need any more iv, and Doc will just give you some pills to continue with. You're going to be just resting on the flight.. "

BeachHead swallowed the last of the stew. "Whatever.. that sounds like a plan. Lemme get my nice clean drrrrry shirt on first." He raised his voice. "HEY SCARLETT! I'm DRESSED!" The redhead came walking back. "Recondo, you got another of them MREs?"

"Sure thing. You won't throw it up if you eat two?" At the headshake, he went to get another meal for the hungry Ranger. Scarlett asked him a lot of questions about the base and what he'd found and done, while he ate the second MRE. This one appeared to be pork with mashed potatoes and looked especially unappetizing cold.

Once he swallowed the last of that one, he belched loudly. Recondo shook his head. "How can you eat those things cold?"

"Hey, don't eat for five days or so.. these things are downright tasty right now." He held out an arm to the medic. "Start up your iv so I can go pass out." Lifeline wiped his arm clean with a few alcohol swabs. "I hope you're better at starting iv's than that other intern Doc has."

Lifeline smiled to himself as he slipped the needle into place and pulled it out, leaving the catheter inserted expertly. "Sticks? Yeah, I'm rooming with him. I'm better than he is, but that doesn't say much, according to his reputation. There. That wasn't too bad, was it?" Attaching the bag of fluids, he held it up a second. "Where are you going to sit.. I'll hang this above the jump seat."

Beach snorted at him. "See that pile of cargo net? I'm about to sack out right there."

Lifeline twisted his lips. "What if the plane turns abruptly? Shouldn't you be strapped in a jump seat?" He finished taping the iv lines securely, putting an extra loop of the tubing onto the forearm and taping that down too as a precaution.

BeachHead got up carefully, letting the medic follow with the iv line and bag of fluids. "Naw.. I'll wedge myself in the corner. Be fine." Grabbing the netting, he yanked it around and then flopped over into the pile on his back. Shoving himself into the corner securely, he kept his arm up out of the way. "Alright.. how's that?" Lifeline tied a loop of cord through the top of the bag and hung it above Beach's head.

The medic shook the cord to unwind it, arranging it to not catch on anything. "As long as you don't move around much.. this'll work fine. I'll stay back here.. make sure you don't pull the iv loose accidentally. What's the best way to wake you up?"

There was a soft snort as Beach already began to drop off to sleep. "Throw something on me from outa arm's reach." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Thanks for the socks.." His body relaxed into a boneless sprawl as he passed into a deep sleep almost instantly.

Lifeline nodded. "You're welcome." Scarlett looked at him as she passed by. "He's sleeping. He's in okay shape though, once the iv I have in him is done rehydrating him, he'll just need food and sleep."

She gave him a long stare. "So NOW you can tell me medical stuff?"

"You're the commander of the operation, you need to know the condition of all soldiers you're relying on." He gazed upwards at her.

After a moment she gave him a short nod. "Good work, Steen... Lifeline. Good job getting him yanked into the plane too. You didn't flinch under fire." She waved at the sleeping Ranger. "Let him sleep.. don't touch him, unless you want to lose an arm."

He smiled. "I know better than that, sergeant."

"Good. I'm going up to the cockpit." She walked up to the front and disappeared. Lifeline settled against the wall where he could watch over the sleeping man. Peering curiously at the bare face, he saw the lines erased as he'd relaxed in sleep. Even so, he frowned slightly in his sleep. Lifeline wondered how many hours he'd been awake, to fall asleep so effortlessly in the loud rattling confines of the transport plane.

Reaching out, he picked up the body armor and wiped it down with the wet cloth. BeachHead would probably toss it back on when he got off the aircraft, so he'd might as well clean it as best he could. There were several nicks and scuffs in it, telling of many scuffles, some spots showing where he'd been hit with bullets. There was a nasty slice on the back plate. The padding was soaked through and he propped it up where it could begin to dry out. Wringing out the head covering, he stuck it on one of the hooks to dry as well. The soaked filthy clothing was stuffed into the same bag the clean clothes had come out of, with him holding his breath to handle them.

He packed up the medical supplies and stowed the bags in the cargo netting on the wall. Then it was back to sitting against the wall. The plane bumped around a little, and he watched Beach blink slightly. "It's okay.. just some turbulence."

"M'kay.." The Ranger managed to get his eyes fully open just long enough to make a visual check of the interior of the plane then shut them again, falling back to sleep immediately.

Lifeline settled in to wait out the long flight. It had been a much shorter mission than he'd originally thought, but had a much better outcome than he'd originally feared.

* * * *

Lifeline watched the bag of fluids finish emptying and reached to roll the stop down on the iv line. Picking up a package of gauze, he threw it at the sleeping Ranger's chest and saw his eyes flick open. "Hey Beach.. wake up."

"Whuu?" Letting out a huge yawn, the man stretched and then settled further into his cargo net nest. "What's goin' on?"

"I need to take out the iv. Then you can go back to sleep." Reassured that he was awake and more or less alert, the medic reached for his arm. "Just take a second."

"Yeah.. 'kay." BeachHead's eyes shut again. "You do that.. got anything else to eat?" The medic smiled a little bit, busily tugging the catheter loose and putting pressure on the puncture site.

He taped a cotton ball over it, putting his thumb on it again, just in case. "There.. you know. I think those things are about two thousand calories each. You might want to stop at two for now. You can eat more later on. I should have brought some bread or something but I didn't know you wouldn't have eaten for a week."

The voice was sleepy and indistinct. "Didn't mean ta lose my supplies.. danged.. monkeys.. like.. like ninjas.." He fell asleep again, despite Lifeline's hands on his arm. The medic watched him warily for any sign that he'd take a swing on him. His patient gave a soft mumble and sighed as he relaxed.

"Okay.. all done.." Lifeline watched him a few seconds, calculating the risks. Then he reached to gingerly lift up the shirt and check the light bandage on his side. The gauze pad was still white and pristine on the outside, so he tugged the teeshirt back down and stepped backwards, letting go of the sergeant's arm at the last second, just in case. "Whew.. that went well." Taking the empty fluids bag down, he put the trash into a small bag and stuck it into the netting on the wall to take out once they landed.

Scarlett stepped up behind him and spoke, startling him badly. "Not bad.." He stumbled backwards towards the sleeping Ranger, grabbing desperately at anything to keep from falling on him. The redhead reached out and grabbed him by the front of his jumpsuit and tugged him upright again. "Don't fall on him.. he's likely to snap your neck before he even wakes up."

He grabbed her wrist and steadied himself, then stepped aside. "Thanks.. I know, I know. Wouldn't be his fault either. I was being careful, you just made me jump!"

She smiled suddenly at him. "Maybe I hang out with Snakes too much. Anyway.. you were doing just fine, until I scared you into jumping on him." She held out a hand to him. "You've proved yourself pretty useful on this mission.. as short as it's turned out to be." He grasped her hand and turned loose. "Pacifist or not.. you got guts. Most guys wouldn't have stayed at the door with bullets hitting all around them."

"Thank you sergeant." He looked at the sleeping man for a second. "I think I'm going to strap into a jump seat and try to get some sleep on the flight. If he wakes up and wants more food, try to convince him not to eat another MRE. Let him have the crackers out of them, but.. he really doesn't need another couple thousand calories dumped into his system right away. He can eat again in say.. six hours. But I know he's gonna be hungry, and I don't hold out a lot of hope in telling him 'no'."

She smiled down at him. "Yeah.. telling Beach 'no' is kind of like inciting a riot at times. We'll keep him out of the cookie jar for a few hours. Get some rest." She walked back up to the front to hang out in the cockpit again. Recondo was already dozing in a jump seat and Lifeline settled in to emulate his example.

* * * *

End Chapter:

I know! It was a long chapter! Lifeline went on a mission.. yes.. cut short unexpectedly.. will the other Joes think he 'really' is useful? Were you surprised he held under fire? Glad to see Scarlett seeing him as a gutsy medic, instead of a useless pacifist?


	11. Chapter 11: Mission Aftermath

Chap 11

Hey a new chapter! Yes, I know it's officially been "Forever" since I updated(at least for me and my spoiled readers.. yes, you're spoiled, I know.. my own fault!). This chapter has a lot of jumping about from thing to thing, but I didn't want to post just a thousand words, so I let it go a bit before stopping again.

Lifeline completes his journey back from the mission.. gets some routine work in the infirmary.. and does more hand-to-hand training. I hope it's enjoyable to read!

* * * *

He woke up once when the plane touched down in Mexico for refueling. BeachHead was griping fairly loudly about something, and Lifeline listened only long enough to determine it didn't have to do with any medical issue, then twisted himself in the opposite direction from his former position, and went back to sleep.

He was shaken roughly hours later. "Get up Steen. We're landing." BeachHead was finishing buckling his chest armor into place. "You awake?"

"Yes Sergeant major." Lifeline got up and started gathering his gear up. He sat while they touched down. The smooth landing took little time. Disembarking from the plane, he walked behind BeachHead and Scarlett, with Recondo settling next to him. He did feel a bit like a returning hero, even if they hadn't ever actually left the aircraft. He'd helped bring back a Joe. It was a prideful moment for him. Ace shouted at the group as they passed. BeachHead gave him a solemn nod, hefting his rifle in one hand as he strode past.

Ace gave a laugh when he spotted the little medic at the back. "Good first mission Lifeline?"

"Yes SIR!" Steen couldn't help his grin. Ace gave him a thumb's up. They came up to the open Jeep and BeachHead slapped the hand of Clutch who was waiting for them, grasping it and tugging good-naturedly.

Clutch let go and slapped his shoulder in welcome. "Yo Beach." The sergeant major stepped up into the front passenger seat, while Clutch climbed in to drive them. Scarlett dumped her pack into the back and sat on it, while Lifeline copied her. Recondo settled into the seat next to side, looking up at his companions.

The jungle trooper grinned and slapped at Lifeline's leg. "Try not to smile so big.. you'll get bugs in your teeth."

"I'll try." He was elbowed lightly by Scarlett. He resolutely didn't pay any attention to how bits of her red hair flowed loose in the air made by their quick passage. He beamed happily anyway. "I never have actually set foot off the base since I made Joe status. I never got off the plane!"

BeachHead turned to give him a perturbed look. "What? You wanna go ask Dogfight to go back.. we'll boot yer butt off the plane.. come back and get ya in ten minutes or so.. or what's left of ya anyway."

Lifeline grinned down at the green masked face. "No Sergeant major! I'd prefer to wait! I'm glad we picked you up though. I didn't know you could run that fast!"

Beach snorted at him. "Yeah well.. put a couple dozen angry revolutionaries on yer butt with rifles and see how fast you can suddenly run."

"No thanks. I'd rather just have one angry Ranger chasing me on a run." He could see the edge of the face twist in a grin under the mask. Lifeline lurched slightly as the Jeep made the turn into the motorpool area. As they pulled up, the PA system went silent for a few seconds. Then the strands of "Sweet Home Alabama" broke out loudly, making BeachHead look up at the speakers.

"Danged funny, Breaker.. danged funny." Even with his slightly annoyed tone, he still seemed pleased. The mechanics pointed at the returning team, giving claps and shouts. To Lifeline's astonishment, Beach stopped just long enough to give a few steps of dance to the music. Then he strode on like nothing had happened, daring anyone to comment. Scarlett grinned but walked alongside him silently.

Recondo gave the medic a push. "He's always in a good mood after a successful mission. He'll be all kinds of perky when it comes time for PT. Just warning you."

Lifeline shook his head. "We're all gonna die. Now I know the sign for imminent death by PT, BeachHead dancing."

They stood on the hydraulic lift to go down into the Pit and BeachHead poked the intercom. "Breaker.. shut that crap off. Don't you make me come down to communications and kick your tail!" The music shut off suddenly. "That's better. Duke in his office?"

"Sure thang, sweetness.. he said for you to report as soon as you arrived." Breaker sounded fairly happy as well.

"Yer chappin' mah ass, Breaker. Ah'm jus' warnin' ya. I ain't ate nor slept 'cept on the danged plane.. and monkeys stole my fav'ite forty-five magazine outa mah pocket. Ya really wanna irk me?" Beach was still smiling contentedly even as his harsh voice barked at the intercom.

"No Sergeant major! Duke is in his office awaiting your arrival, Sergeant major." There was a pause. "Good to have you back." There was the distinct sound of a gum bubble popping.

The Ranger shook his head at all of them. "I'm tellin' ya.. some days it's better to deal with the furry monkeys rather than the ones in Joe uniform."

Recondo laughed. "There's a reason I stay gone so much. My jungles are less wild than the Pit any day."

They reached the lower levels and BeachHead stepped off and stopped, holding the rifle out to Lifeline. "Take this to the armory... oh heck.. Recondo.. take this.. Steen ain't gonna carry it." He swung his beat up pack and the bag of ammunition over as well. Lifeline reached to take the pack.

"I'll carry this." He tugged the pack from Recondo's shoulder as well. "There.. where do you need all this?"

Recondo nodded, picking up the weapons from Beach and Scarlett both. "My bag goes in the rec room, I'll get it from there after a good meal. Beach, you want yours in your quarters?"

"Yep.. stay outa trouble. Duke will debrief ya'll later probably." Beach strode off, his still filthy armor and mask making everyone give him a wide berth.

Scarlett nodded at them. "Get some food and sleep, Recondo, tell Bazooka to clean those weapons, you don't need to do it yourself. Lifeline, check in with Doc and give him a report on BeachHead's condition, so he won't need to harass our Sergeant Hardass."

"Yes Sergeant!" He hefted all the various packs and headed off on his errands, still feeling pleased with himself. Recondo turned off at the next crosspath, headed for the armory. Lifeline paused at the Rec room to leave the worn pack in the corner. "This is Recondo's.. he said he'll get it later." His quiet announcement made the few Joes in the room nod.

Flint and Steeler sat at a table with cards. The warrant officer gave him a look. "You're back fast. You bring BeachHead back okay?"

"Yes sir."

Flint nodded at him in dismissal and went back to peering at his cards, then nodded at Steeler. "Go fish."

Shaking his head, Lifeline found his way to BeachHead's quarters, knocking patiently at the door. LowLight should have been in the room, but there wasn't an answer after a couple minutes and three knockings. He fished out his own passcard and opened the door. Medical personnel could open almost every person's private quarters. He stepped in just far enough to set the pack to the side of the door.

The soft voice startled him. "Steen.. you back?"

He jumped and turned to look into the darkened room. "Y-yes... yes sergeant. Sorry, I knocked... I thought you weren't here."

LowLight's shadow moved in the top bunk slightly. "Yeah. Beach back?"

"Yes sergeant." Lifeline stepped back to the door. "Do you need anything? I just brought his pack to the room."

"No." The shadow disappeared down into the recesses of the beddings and Lifeline stepped back out, closing the door quietly.

"Whew..." He took himself to Medical to consult Doc. He was met in the hallways by several different people, most of whom seemed only slightly surprised to see him back already. He guessed the entire base had somehow known about the mission to retrieve the Ranger. He nodded politely at the smiles and greetings.

"You're back soon." He jumped and whirled, seeing Jinx standing there in a previously empty spot in the hallway. "Scarlett okay?"

He nodded. "Yes.. everyone is fine." She gave a slight nod and walked away. He looked at the floor and tried to control his heart rate. When he looked back up, as he almost expected, she had disappeared again. "Ninja... good lord.."

Doc was distracted with a greenshirt's broken leg, but nodded as he filled him in. "Good job. The faster he got rehydrated, the better. I'll check the wounds, give him oral antibiotics and tell him to come get checked in a few days. Easy job this time with him." He glanced over. "Did you get any rest on the flight?"

"Yes sir. Several hours."

"Good. I want you to go check on the patients in the infirmary. Then go get a meal, go on with your regular schedule for the day. SnakeEyes is back for hand-to-hand, since Scarlett will be in debriefing." Doc shook his head a little bit. "He came back almost intact."

"That's good." Lifeline motioned towards the desk. "I'll just go grab the charts and check everyone."

"Oh.. Lifeline.. you need a uniform too. Greenshirts wear standard gear, but Joes generally wear a bit more.. eccentric uniforms." Doc's eyes twinkled slightly. "Just remember, you'll be wearing it in front of the rest of the guys, so don't go overboard. Stick with loose clothing, and you'll be able to put thermal-wear underneath it if needed."

"Thanks. I'll think about that." He moved off to begin a standard day at work for him.

* * * *

Lifeline walked slowly out to the fenceline, stretching arms made stiff by sleeping on his stomach. Yesterday had been almost boring, with his regular routine after the terrifying excitement of a mission, cut short though it might have been, seeming to be bland and uninteresting. He smiled to himself. Just what he'd never have believed, he was going to turn into a mission junkie. He'd seen some of the Joe team acting up, bored and frustrated when they weren't out on a mission, and mentally labeled them as adrenaline junkies, always jonesing for more excitement. He would watch himself for signs of that.

Approaching the gates, he gave a short wave at the two guards on duty. They nodded with disinterest back at him. One tilted his head slightly towards the fence, and Steen looked and was delighted to see BeachHead standing there impatiently in long-sleeved shirt, balaclava and fatigue pants, the light tactical vest fastened over it as always.

"Could ya walk any slower, Lifeline? Gawd.. I been standin' here watchin' ya waaaander yer way over here." Without waiting for any reply, he turned and headed out along the fence at a trot. Once Lifeline settled in next to him, he glanced over at him.

"You been running every morning since I been gone?" His powerful body seemed to be working every bit as smoothly as before he'd disappeared on the mission. It didn't seem to have caused any visible damage, to Lifeline's eyes.

"Yes sergeant.. every morning until the morning I was flying out to retrieve you." Lifeline sped up slightly to keep up as the sergeant major lengthened his stride to a light run. "I didn't expect to see you out here.. I thought you'd still be sleeping."

There was a loud snort of derision. "I slept yesterday, after debriefing, after writing out the reports, and listening to Hawk and Flint and Duke hash over all the stuff I already told them. Ate a lot. Showered twice. Gotta clean my armor today, or replace it." He sighed and sped up into the ground eating lope he preferred, and Steen struggled to get into the stride himself. "You keeping up?"

"Yes sergeant.. just.. you have longer legs.. it's a little faster than I got used to." He found the rhythm and settled into it. "Did you see Doc?"

"Yep." He didn't reply more than that.

They ran in silence for a few miles. The sun started to peek over the edge of the desert, causing the brilliant colors to spread out, a sight that Steen had enjoyed almost every morning. The slight chill was already dissipating. All of his stiffness fell away and his muscles and frame warmed and felt like it worked the way it was supposed to as a ideal machine.

"Yer runnin' good." BeachHead looked at him as they ran. "How far you been goin?"

Steen huffed a little bit, trying to cough dust from his throat. "About six miles. That far is where I start to feel winded."

"Good.. we'll do seven today, gotta push your threshold."

Sighing to himself, Steen nodded. He'd pushed his threshold to six miles in just over a week, as an extra run.. because he'd still be going on the PT run later on. And.. thinking about what Recondo had told him the day before, today would probably be a hellacious session.

BeachHead suddenly slowed and came to an easy stop. They were at the eastern edge of the fenceline, and the sun was finally shining on them. The sands were beginning to warm up and he turned his face to the light, closing his eyes and basking in it. "Gawd.. it feels good to be here."

Lifeline smiled, looked at the powerful sergeant major enjoying the early morning sun. "I imagine there wasn't a lot of sunshine in the Amazon."

The Ranger shook his head. "Naw.. dank, damp and dreary. Wet for over a week... I think I grew gills, gotta dry 'em up now." He twisted his neck and made it crunch.

"Maybe you should lie in the sun a couple of hours, bake the dampness out of your lungs. Later on.. when it's good and hot." Lifeline stretched in the warm morning sun. It did feel good.

"Yeah.. lie in the sun... " BeachHead snorted but seemed almost like he was considering it.

"As long as you don't get sunburned, it would be good for you. Jump start your vitamin D, get your skin dried out, help dry up your lungs.. consider it a medically advised sunbath, if that helps." Lifeline grinned as BeachHead turned a vaguely annoyed look on him.

"Yeah.. I'll do that. Let's go." He turned and headed back along the fence, running easily.

Lifeline was happy that he was merely winded at the end of the run. Sure, he was pouring sweat, but sweating was healthy, and he wasn't gasping for breath or bent over ready to throw up. The Sergeant major looked pleased as he looked him over.

"Yer still lifting weights also?"

"Yes sergeant. Uban and I weight lift in the evenings."

Beach snorted. "Figures.. you probably bench about the same weight as she does." Lifeline nodded at that, easily admitting his deficiency. "Yer gonna need to work on that. She's a lot lighter than you are.. ya oughta be well past her weights."

"I'm working on it. If I push too fast, I'll end up injured and useless until I heal. That won't do anyone any good." Lifeline held his breath just a little bit, hoping he hadn't just let himself in for a good yelling-at from the touchy sergeant.

"Work on it harder." With that, he turned and left, headed for the PT courses to get there before the greenshirt brigades. Lifeline sighed and headed to clean up his room and do his morning routine. He'd come back out for his regular PT with the Joe team, then shower.. then breakfast and so on and so on...

* * * *

Lifeline limped into the infirmary, waving off Doc's concerns. "I'm fine.. just.. oh my lord.. Recondo was right."

Doc wasn't reassured and insisted he sit down. "Limping isn't okay.. and what do you mean, Recondo was right about what?"

"Recondo.. ow.. it's just my legs are so tired.. I'm not injured. Recondo said that BeachHead would be extra perky about PT coming right off of a mission. He was right.." He groaned. "Even a hot shower didn't help. And he was bouncing.. BOUNCING when we were leaving, running after Clutch and Steeler doing laps, because they mouthed off to him about him staying gone longer next time."

Doc had to laugh a little at his medic's condition. "That would do it. Beach does love to run everyone ragged when he's been gone." He pulled open a drawer and handed over a tube of liniment. "Here.. this is the stuff for sports strains and such. Best ever, you'll want to order a case of it once you've used it tonight." He handed over a stack of files. "And.. here's your files for today, I want you to review each file, write up a short report or notes on each patient, then bring them to me for discussion. You can use the office down the hall.. "

Lifeline spent two hours going through the files and writing notes on each. He found them fascinating, seeing his new teammates medical records. He did leave SnakeEyes to last, as it was by far the most extensive. Once he began going through it, he found out why. The man not only routinely was sent on missions no trained team should survive, but came back with relatively minor wounding. On the occasion he was laid up, there were notes showing he stayed in the infirmary a extremely short period of time, as opposed to the recommended time. Doc had noted the difference between them each time. On the rare occasion there were notes written to the side about methods used to bribe, cajole, or force the commando to stay in the infirmary, with scribbles underneath revealing the success rates, or lack thereof. He also underwent occasional facial surgeries to remove scar tissue if it began to affect his eyes or mouth too badly. Keloid tissue would continue to form years after terrible burns, and could be a real issue if it wasn't removed or loosened by surgical techniques.

Knocking on Doc's office door, he was waved into the room and settled across the desk. Spending almost the rest of his shift talking over the notes, he discovered most of his notes had been correct in his assessments, and what Doc corrected him on wasn't too far off. SnakeEyes' file took over half an hour and was the one he was the farthest off on.

Doc smiled at his frustration. "Don't feel bad, it takes a lot of time to get used to ninja motives. SnakeEyes is the one that confounds us all, so it'll take time for you to get a handle on him. We just try to keep up with his twists and turns."

Lifeline debated in his head about commenting. Finally he decided if he had a concern, he should bring it up with his boss. "Doc... you don't really buy into that ninja stuff, right? I mean.. he's obviously a great commando, but he's an Army sergeant.. a commando, infiltration specialist, hand-to-hand instructor. That doesn't make him a 'ninja'."

He watched the deep brown eyes considering him quietly. "You know.. one day you'll see him in action, and then you'll believe in ninjas too. But for now, take my word for it. He doesn't think exactly like you or I. He doesn't think like an Army commando exactly. There's a twist to almost everything, and he is undoubtedly, the most deadly man on the team. Sooo.. keep that in mind when you need to deal with him. If he's ever brought in injured badly, you remember that he's got the same quirks as many combat veterans, but he's a lot faster, and a lot more deadly, so be very careful."

"He wouldn't really attack medical personnel, would he?" Lifeline thought back to his hand-to-hand classes, and tried to fit the fairly good-natured commando into the description of a dangerously aggressive patient. "He's scary with his abilities.. but he's never actually seemed violent towards me. In fact, he's been very patient and understanding.."

Doc interrupted. "He wouldn't deliberately hurt people, despite the amount of pain that he's endured during years of treatment. But if he's badly injured or unconscious, he could easily come to in a mild panic and break bones before he understood where he was. Same as most combat troops being awakened unexpectedly."

Lifeline nodded thoughtfully. "Okay.. I can see that. Same as BeachHead in the plane, if I had fallen on him while he was asleep.. I wouldn't blame him for any damage he did before he could finish waking up." He sat back. "I'll be very careful especially with him." Checking the clock on the wall, he sighed. "Speaking of commandos, I have to go to hand-to-hand now. With SnakeEyes back, I'll be learning more techniques for dodging and ducking and falling down on my face in a more graceful and useful manner." He left as Doc laughed softly.

* * * *

Lifeline waited patiently while SnakeEyes worked with GungHo on the mats. Scarlett was directing pairs of Joes in the other half of the gym. The commando threw his opponent onto the floor three times in a row before he signaled for a stop.

*You are telegraphing every move to the right. Stop lifting your arm every time you get ready to strike with it.* The signs were choppy and abrupt. He motioned for the Cajun to attack, and they circled and GungHo ended up on the mats again twice more.

SnakeEyes pulled him to his feet one last time and sent him to Scarlett to be paired up with someone. *Better.* He motioned to Lifeline and ran him through the moves they had already practiced, then through the various ways to fall.

*You are retaining the knowledge well. Muscle memory will make falling correctly second nature soon. Let us work on a new block.*

Lifeline had more issues with the new movements. It took several tries for him to get it just right to satisfy his instructor.

"I'm sorry! I'm trying.. but.. my body just doesn't seem to go that way.."

SnakeEyes stopped and beckoned Shipwreck over. "Hey Snakes.. teaching the little medic how to keep from gettin' his head bashed in?"

*Just attack him like this..* The commando showed him the attack. *Half speed only.*

Standing behind Lifeline, SnakeEyes took hold of his arms and moved them through the block and misdirection of the sailor's attacking moves. *Do that.* He motioned for Shipwreck to repeat it, and watched with evident approval. *Repeat.* The third and fourth times he seemed to finally grasp it and it began to go smoother. The sturdy Navy man seemed fairly amiable about being the training dummy for this exercise. Lifeline felt horrible that he kept making him fall onto the mats so hard.

"I think I have it now.. we can quit." SnakeEyes sighed at him and he shook his head. "No no... really. I got it.. I don't need to keep throwing Shipwreck on the ground.."

The sailor laughed loudly, his good-natured grin making the medic feel even more guilty. "Aww.. don't go feeling sorry for me! You just sort of trip me down.. and there's all these mats.. not like when Scarlett gets a bug up her.. ahh.. " He glanced at the ninja who crossed his arms and made a 'go on' gesture at him. "... ahh.. I mean.. when our good Sergeant Scarlett decides to bestow her knowledge on us a bit more.. energetically than normal. She manages to really put a lot of force into a fall. You could say that she helps gravity along a bit. Then it's hard on a guy.. but you're practically gentle in dropping me to the mat like a sack of cornmeal."

Lifeline ducked his head. "Thanks.. really. But I really don't want to do it any more.."

SnakeEyes shook his head firmly and pointed at the sailor. *Repeat. You are not done until I know you can do it properly without thinking about it.*

The medic shook his head. "No, I don't want to do it. I'm not throwing Shipwreck down. It goes against everything I believe.."

SnakeEyes reached out in a 'hold' gesture. *Don't parrot 'pacifist' to me. I've worked around your misgivings as much as possible. Everything you are doing is non-offensive moves. You will continue this exercises.*

Lifeline felt a shiver at the thought of defying the commando. But he shook his head firmly. "No. I refuse."

SnakeEyes looked at him then pointed to the sidelines. *Sit. If you won't preform the exercises, then I will, until you decide to practice.* He turned to Shipwreck who looked a bit alarmed. *You'll be my practice partner until Steen thinks he can do his exercises.* He paused. *Sorry.*

Lifeline started to leave and felt his shirt grabbed. He was hauled around and planted into the chair. *You will sit here, or do the exercises.* The sharp movements of SnakeEyes's signs made him nod in reply.

As the lean commando stalked back over, Shipwreck held up his hands in protest. "Hey hey.. don't be taking all this out on.. whuuup!" The loud thud of him landing on the mats was followed by a groan. SnakeEyes motioned for him to get up, and promptly did a second throw to toss him onto the mats again.

Lifeline sat still, gritting his teeth. After over a dozen times of Shipwreck hitting the mats, he started to just go limp instead of rolling with the landing. Finally the medic got up and stepped between the instructor and victim.

"Stop. Stop it. This isn't fair. Leave him alone."

SnakeEyes tilted his head, holding out his hands briefly in query. *Are you ready to do your exercises?*

"No! I'm not going to.." Before he could even finish talking, SnakeEyes stepped around him and snatched up the hapless sailor to give him a toss. The loud thud made Lifeline wince and step between them again. "No! STOP IT!"

He was brushed aside easily and Shipwreck went flying again. He tried to place himself in the way, and SnakeEyes pushed past him, but Lifeline pushed his arm aside and suddenly the commando tumbled over an outstretched leg to land on the floor. Lifeline stood staring at the sprawled masked form in absolute horror, certain that he was about to die in some horribly nasty messy manner that would cause the entire dojo to be declared a biohazard.

"I.. I.. " SnakeEyes rose to his feet easily and advanced on him. "I'm sorry!! Don't kill me!!"

The commando clapped his hands together several times. *Finally. You really are a slow learner.* He stepped around the confused man to give Shipwreck a relatively gentle boot to his side. *Get up. Thank you for playing along.*

The sailor climbed to his feet and brushed himself off with a few showy motions. "No problem Snakes.. anytime you need some help.. anything to help out my bud.."

SnakeEyes shook a finger at him slowly. *I'm not interceding between you and BeachHead. You are on your own.*

"Man! Come on! You know he's gonna murderize me when he figures out I was the one that took all his ropes off the obstacles!" A few theatric sighs had no effect and he gave up to trudge off to the side and rejoin the other Joes.

Lifeline looked from the suddenly fully recovered sailor to the all-too-smug instructor. "What? It... it was all a put-on? He's not.. you weren't.."

The signs were slow and calm, in direct contrast to earlier. *Shipwreck is much tougher than that. But I've been pushing you to realize you are not being aggressive, you can use what I am teaching you to protect your charges, without betraying your pacifist beliefs.* He paused and coughed twice. *You are just more stubborn than I originally thought. Now you understand? Or should I go fetch Dusty to abuse until you give in again?*

Lifeline held up his hands. "No.. no.. it's okay. I get it. Please don't." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming himself. "Okay.. so let's start from the beginning again."

* * * *

End Chapter:

I'll be trying to figure out what to do next here.. but I'm not abandoning our favorite medic, never fear!


	12. Chapter 12: Uniform Woes

Chap 12

Alright already.. look look! It's a new chapter for ya'll. Don't go getting any pitchforks or torches.. I haven't forgotten our favorite medic at all! I have Lil 'Beachie on guard at the perimeter too, so no sneaking into sniper positions!

Lifeline gets a little encouragement to get his new uniform designed and he does a part of his job that's rarely thought about.

* * * *

The recruits that Lifeline has arrived with had been cut down considerably, but the remaining few were finally considered passed. Evan and Uban were promoted to full greenshirts, while Finnegin was placed with the reserve pilots. Lifeline still managed his nightly dinners and conversations with the two women, although Evan rarely joined them any longer. He spent more time with some of the infantrymen in the greenshirt brigades.

He was reminded by no less than five of the Joes that a greenshirt uniform wasn't really acceptable. BeachHead finally took matters into his own hands one day.

"Lifeline.. commere..." The scowl that was habitually seen on Beach's face seemed to be more amused than not. "You were supposed to get a uniform put together."

"Oh.. yes Sergeant major... I..." Lifeline trailed off. He didn't have a very good excuse for it, other than it hadn't seemed all that important to him. "I've been rather busy lately."

"Well.. that's understandable." The very reasonable calm tones SHOULD have alerted the medic to something being 'off'. Instead he foolishly relaxed thinking that BeachHead understood that it wasn't a very big deal and he'd get around to that sort of nonsense soon enough. BeachHead smiled.. his eyes crinkling up slightly as the hidden grin spread slowly on his face. "I took it upon myself to help ya out. Aren't you glad?"

"Umm..." Now realization dawned. "That's nice of you... you shouldn't have.."

Beach pulled out something hideously pink and shiny. "Here ya go. Until you come up with a uniform.. this is what yer gonna wear. Every waking minute.. understand? Yer options are THIS.. or naked... or a new approved uniform. Understand?" His amusement seemed like the smaller man would actually have some say in this.. which Lifeline understood he did not.

Lifeline held up the pink sparkly shorts. "Umm.. thanks.. I'm sure I can come up with a uniform..."

"Well until then.." BeachHead crossed his arms and gave him a significant glare. "Change. Now. PT is going to wait on you.. every minute I gotta wait is twenty more push-ups for everyone."

Lifeline stared at the horrible shorts and then stripped off his fatigue pants and pulled on the shorts, not bothering to un-do his boots at all. Coloring to nearly the same brightness level as the cloth, he stood at attention while BeachHead held his stopwatch and waited patiently. Finally he looked at the drill instructor.

"Done?"

"Did I say ya could wear a non-matchin' shirt like that teeshirt?" Beach's raised eyebrow said that he was truly enjoying the humiliation he was putting the medic through. As Lifeline peeled his tee off, there were a few whistles and catcalls, which ended the instant BeachHead turned his head. "Alright then... form up in fours.. ya'll know the drill.."

Shipwreck's voice called out with good humor.. "Yeah.. his name is Beach.. and he's a real bear.."

The scattered laughter didn't stop Beach from homing in on the sailor, bulling through the crowd to snatch him up by his shirt collar and frog march him to the front of the line. "Funny.. since yer so danged energetic.. ya can go first... AND last!"

"Sure sure.. sorry.. you're soo touchy!" Shipwreck straightened his shirt a bit before stepping up to the start line. "Just like a real bear.. just saying.." He jumped to avoid the swat BeachHead aimed at his head and took off running through the 'new improved' course.

Lifeline had already been treating various construction injuries. Beachhead got wild hairs every so often and revamped the entire course. This time it was just building a new A-frame to go over and putting up a new frame to hang double ropes from one side to the other over a mudpit. Soldiers were to cross the ropes standing on one and holding to the other over their heads. It was at least twenty feet off the ground, thus the 'kindness' of a deep mudpit under it to break the fall of anyone who slipped or lost their balance. SnakeEyes and Jinx rubbed their hands together in anticipation of hitting the new obstacles. Lifeline eyed the diminutive Jinx and estimated the distance between the upper and lower ropes. He was fairly certain that she wouldn't be able to properly reach and wondered if the Sergeant major made any allowances for short troops. He doubted it.

He was up in the third group and tried to stand nonchalantly. It was hard to do it dressed in tiny sparkly hot pink shorts and shirtless. LadyJaye gave him a look up and down. "You know.. you're not nearly as skinny as you used to be. I think you should take your time thinking up a uniform. I like the shorts.. you have nice legs."

He blushed harder. "I uhh.. I have.. umm gained a lot of muscles.. thanks to Sergent major running me into the ground at every opportunity."

She got a slight frown. "Well, that's what he's supposed to do. He makes sure we're all training to the best of our potential."

Her disapproval made him jump to agree. "Oh yes yes.. that's why I asked him to help me out.. I do an extra run every morning with him. I want to push myself, so I can do my job better."

She turned aside. "That's good." Her obvious lack of reaction made him feel disappointed. Somehow he managed to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. It just meant another hole to dig himself out of.

"Lifeline! Wake up over there! Get yer butt out there and try not to fall on the danged cargo net this time!" BeachHead's voice whipped him out onto the course and he sprinted as hard as he could, ignoring the laughter that broke out at the sight of him running in the little shorts. His face burned and he vowed that a new outfit would be found as soon as he was released from PT.

He was standing at the finish line and watching with interest to see the two ninjas taking the course. Everyone liked to watch SnakeEyes work either the PT obstacle courses or fighting qualifications. Lifeline was waiting to see how his apprentice Jinx handled the double rope bridge.

He wasn't really all that surprised when SnakeEyes hit the ropes and barely needed the upper rope to speed across the lower one. He was quite surprised when Jinx didn't slow down from a dead run to tightrope across it without ever touching the upper rope at all. There was a short cheer from the watching Joes at the display of prowess, although BeachHead seemed a little bit sulky over the ease with which they defeated his obstacles.

When the group was finally running laps, Lifeline had become exhausted enough to plain not care what he was wearing. BeachHead loped up to run beside him, giving him a sly look as he paced the tired medic.

"So.. I can expect ya to have yer new uniform by tomorrow I'll bet?" Beach's pleased tone irked Lifeline just a little bit.

"Yes Sergeant major. I'll have it later today, guaranteed." Lifeline's very grumpy voice left no doubt as to how displeased he was over BeachHead's heavy-handed tactic. "I don't appreciate you making me run PT in these stupid shorts."

"Oh.. you'll wear them until further notice. It's those as your new uniform.. or a new appropriate uniform. You don't get to put those fatigues back on." BeachHead's smug look made the medic flush with anger.

"I'm not wearing these things..." He stopped suddenly as BeachHead turned a hard gaze onto him. "... any.. any longer than absolutely necessary... "

"Yeah.. ya better not let me catch ya wearing anything else.. trust me.. I'll make ya regret it a long long time." The instructor slowed enough to fall back behind Lifeline to begin harassing Clutch about jogging instead of running. Lifeline swallowed and began to think very hard about what the fastest version of a new uniform.

* * * *

Down in the quartermasters domain, he stood patiently while the three guys behind the counter got done laughing at him. The assistant-quartermaster Stacks leaned on the counter and wiped his eyes finally.

"You know.. the disturbing thing I can't quite figure out is... " The young man smiled evilly. "Where'd BeachHead GET the shorts? I mean.. can you really imagine him flipping through a catalog and thinking 'hmm... I think I'll pick up a set of these hot pink shorts... look good on my day off'. I mean.. ouch!! What a mental image!" Everyone laughed harder. Even Lifeline had to laugh at that.

He suddenly made a face. "Eww.. now I'm hoping he never wore them..."

One of the guys laughed at his discomfort. "What's wrong? Don't like thinking of Beach's boys in the same shorts you're wearing?" Lifeline rolled his eyes at the crude joke and he laughed harder and then waved him to come to the door. "Oh come on back.. I'm sure we can find something you'll like that will pass muster. Any ideas?"

Slipping through the heavy door, Lifeline peered around with interest. The storerooms were a prohibited area for anyone not in the quartermasters ranks. Not by rule nor regulation.. but by the wishes of Two-Bits who could easily provide you with underwear one size too small.. or boots that pinched your feet.. sheets with starch in them or odd smelling blankets. No one angered the quartermaster, they were held in the same regard as the cooks. Somehow troops looked down on them as non-combatants.. while never wishing to irritate them.

He hadn't gone far when Two-Bits himself suddenly appeared without warning. "What are you doing back here?"

Lifeline gulped and hoped he hadn't jumped as obviously as he felt he had. His guide stepped back to intercede for him.

"He's with me, Two-Bits." The quartermaster turned his expressionless gaze on his assistant. "He's got to put together a uniform." The gaze returned to the little medic and looked him up and down briefly.

After a few seconds, there was a slight nod and he turned to stalk off through the rows of stacked items, the limp noticeable as he disappeared into the supplies. Lifeline watched him and felt goosebumps rise up on his arms.

"Spooky... ain't he?" Stacks turned and headed deeper into the storerooms. "Two-Bits ALWAYS knows when someone comes in here. Always.. no matter what."

"How? I mean... what if he's sleeping off-duty?"

The guy paused and looked a little puzzled. "You know.. I dunno. I've never had him not appear.. maybe he doesn't sleep."

Lifeline smiled, beginning to relax the longer the strange quartermaster was out of sight. "Everyone sleeps. I mean.. he's human like the rest of us."

"Ha. Yeah.. a team that includes two ninja on it.. and you're touting 'human' as a label?" The chuckle faded as he stopped and turned to the medic to look his half-clad body over carefully. "Hm.... so what did you have in mind?"

Resisting the urge to cover up, Lifeline sighed. "I don't know what's available. I want something that says 'medic' and not something that says 'gun-carrying homicidal maniac'."

There was a wide grin. "Sooo.. no balaclavas? No problem."

Lifeline laughed. "No.. please don't give me BeachHead's outfit. I don't need any holsters.. but pockets would be nice."

He was looked over again before he spoke up. "You know.. we had a couple of firefighting style jumpsuits..." He rummaged through things and finally pulled out a few sets of coveralls. "Well.. I didn't remember them being red.. sorry."

Lifeline seized on them. "No no! Red is great! Medical Red Cross red. Look they have some pockets too." He smiled and then saw the disapproving expression. "What? I'm supposed to be visible, I'm a medic."

"Yeah.. but.. red? Come on." He sighed. "Alright. It's your skin. These are fire-resistant, rip-stop cotton blend. They'll be just a bit large.. but that means you can wear thermals underneath just fine. We can order you in a few sets in a slightly smaller size if you like."

"No, I don't want anything tight. I wish there was something that said medic on them, so no one will think I'm a fire guy. Barbeque wears red doesn't he?"

"Well yeah.. I guess if you want glaring neon signs that say 'I'm a medic' I could help you out. How about..." Stacks glanced down at the pink shorts. "You take a jumpsuit.. I'll give you a few odds and ends to add to it.. belt.. boots.. maybe a set of body armor.. we'll have to repaint it to match though.."

"I won't need armor, it'll just slow me down. I'll be doing some helicopter rescue work though, so a chopper helmet would be nice. Handy to have it ready and with me, in case I need to hop on a chopper to head out without warning." Lifeline felt almost eager as he looked over the stacks of accessories. "I wish it had more pockets."

"I can take care of that.. no worries. I'll fix it up real good. You're sure you wouldn't like it in.. oh.. say... black?" The assistant to Two-Bits seemed almost hopeful. "We have some nice black jumpsuits.. and they say black is slimming.. not that you'd need slimming, you're too skinny as it is."

"Thanks.. I really HAVE put on weight you know.." Lifeline looked down at himself critically. "I'm not THAT skinny."

"Well.. you sure aren't bulky either. You're kind of a pocket-sized medic.." Stacks grinned at him. "Sorry.. just fun to needle you. I'm sure you'll keep putting on real muscle.. besides.. it's easier to get items to fit you smaller guys."

"Oh come on! I'm nearly six foot!" A exasperated breath escaped the medic before he could stop it. He hated it when people got to him, but he wasn't tiny!

"Oh? A few inches shy of six foot.. I'll wager that on a real bet. I'd guess... no more than five-eight." Stacks gave him a considering gaze as he estimated his height.

Lifeline huffed slightly. "Five-eight AND A HALF!" He glowered at Stacks as he chuckled.

"O-jay Lifey. 'And a half'. I'll make it up to you.. promise. You'll like the jumpsuit I fix up. I promise.. no hot pink spangles, either. Unless you've gotten attached to those cute tiny shorts.. that is."

"Oh please shut up.. no I don't like the pink shorts. It's just BeachHead's way of tormenting me unmercifully." Lifeline checked the time. "I've got to go, I'm teaching a first-aid class to the greenshirts this afternoon."

"Good good... I'll try to have something for you tomorrow.. the plain jumpsuit should satisfy BeachHead." Stacks escorted him to the doorway again, carrying the extra red jumpsuits.

"Thanks.. really. I do appreciate it. This will do just fine. Not sure how I'll keep these boots white.." He caught a small can as it was tossed at him by one of the others.

"Scotch-gard. Savior of the masses.. when it comes to dealing with BeachHead's adoration of mud anyway..." The wide smile said they probably bought the stuff by the case.

"Thanks!!" Lifeline took his bundle with him up to the showers. Once clean, he pulled on the bright red jumpsuit and fastened the belt through the attached beltloops, noting that the belt could be used as a emergency harness attachment. He'd prefer a proper harness when needed, but this would serve in an pinch if necessary.

Dressed and ready, he tossed the pink shorts into the laundry, hoping he wouldn't see them again. He trotted up to the infirmary in order to grab the heavy bags of equipment and bandaging for the quick field medical training.

Up topside, he found a decently large group.. at least forty greenshirts with BeachHead riding herd on them. He set out the first aid equipment and then stood and looked over at BeachHead. The Sergeant major was practically twitching at the sight of him in the new clothing.

Finally Lifeline walked over and looked at him. "Sergeant major? Do you need to talk to me before I start the class?"

Beach looked like he wanted to say no. But finally he looked him over again. "Is this some sort of joke? I told ya, shorts until ya pick a uniform."

"This is my new uniform. Well.. there'll be a few really minor changes.. Stacks said he could add more pockets.."

"It's RED. It's not even... I dunno.. maroon or rust-colored.. it's bright freaking 'please shoot here' red! Will the new version have an actual target painted on it? Are ya tryin' ta be suicidal?" BeachHead ran down and took a deep breath. "Did ya even think before ya picked up a brilliant red jumpsuit?"

Lifeline had patiently waited through the ranting. "Yes, I picked the red, instead of a different color.. and yes, I was offered other colors. I wanted to be instantly recognizable as a medic.. not a combatant.. easily seen across the battlefield. So it's red. People shouldn't BE shooting at a rescuer.. people don't shoot at firefighters and EMTs as a matter of course, right? Besides.. you'll be out there drawing all the fire. I'll be fine."

BeachHead had been just a little bit stunned at the reasonable explanation. The last comment made his eyes narrow again. "Don't push yer luck Steen. I mean it."

He controlled his smile at BeachHead's frustration. "Yes Sergeant major. I'll start the first aid class." He moved to in front of the assembled troopers. It was an odd feeling to be in charge of teaching people he'd been a part of only a few weeks earlier.

Just as he opened his mouth, there was a loud bark from behind him. "Ya'll pay attention here! Lifeline is gonna teach ya'll how to help each other not die to danged death on the field. So LISTEN UP!" He stalked to the side slightly. "All yours. Good luck."

Lifeline watched him walk away, never glancing back. He swallowed and turned his face back to the group, watching them lose the attentive stiffness as their Sergeant major disappeared. "Umm.. yes.. well. Today.. I'm going to teach you basic aid.. or first aid medical.. umm.. first aid training. So.. it won't make you a doctor.. it's simple things just to get the injured party to a aide station.. or until they can be evac-ed on a medical.. umm.. a medical evac."

There was a slight scattering of laughter as he fumbled over his words. A few people towards the back started to murmur back and forth. He stopped.

"Okay.. quiet down. This is important information..." Instead of paying attention, the murmur grew. "Guys... quiet down..." He was ignored again and suddenly he was annoyed that they were uninterested in saving their friends.

Stepping forward he picked some of the more popular greenshirts at random, pointing for them to move forward in a group. When he had fifteen, he pushed the group aside. The talking had stopped as they wondered what he was doing.

"Lie down.. right where you are.." He turned to the remaining soldiers. "Okay.. here's the truth.. up to one third of you could be wounded in any battle. So that's all these people over here... all of them. Look.. these are your friends.. you serve with them.. you hang out with them afterhours.. you train with them.. you fight with them. Right? You like some of them..." He pointed at Uban, lying on the grass with a slight smile on her face. "Uban.. everyone's friend. Pretty.. competent.. she's always got a helping hand for you. But that's all over now. She just got shot in battle."

He strode to the front of the group. "Are you okay with them all dying? You don't mind that Uban is dead? Doesn't bother you?"

One of the guys crossed his arms. "No.. but we're soldiers. It's part of what we signed up for. So what?"

Lifeline turned to the group lying down. "Okay.. you.. you.. you.. you.. Uban.. you over there.. Evan... you and you.. and finally... you." He motioned them to move to the side. "Okay.. so all these guys... you COULD have saved their lives. But you don't care if they die, so maybe they should go lie back down." He stared them down. "You're going to throw their lives away? Really? So... you should just push one of them in front of a bullet. Next time there's a battle... " He pointed out the speaker who looked worried suddenly. "Next time, when the guns are firing at you guys.. I want you.. YOU.. to push Uban here out into the open so she gets shot and killed. Try to make it a headshot.. so she won't suffer."

He glared. "I'm not going to push no one in front of a bullet."

"Why not? You don't care if she dies." Lifeline pointed at the ground again. "Uban, go ahead and lie down.. you'll be dead later on the field. Might as well get used to lying on the ground. If you're really lucky.. you'll get killed nearly instantly instead of squirming around for half an hour or more."

His antagonizer spoke up angrily. "Shut up! That's not funny!"

"No it's not." Lifeline stepped to the front. "Of course.. you COULD have saved all of these ten.. I said that these fifteen would be wounded.. not killed. Out of every fifteen men wounded in battle.. at least ten can be saved if they get medical help within the first hour or less. Uban here could bleed to death within ten minutes. If someone puts a pressure bandage on the wound.. she lives." He paused and then walked up to the guy. "Now.. tell me how to put a pressure bandage on Uban's leg."

He got a sulky stare. "I don't know."

"Okay.. so Uban died. Sorry Uban." He turned back to the group. "So.. who here knows how to put a pressure bandage on Uban? Who's gonna step up and save her life? Anyone? No? So you're gonna let her just die?"

"No! No!" "You can tell us!" He smiled and lowered his face slightly, giving them all a significant stare. The group suddenly quieted.

"Yes.. if you pay attention to my class here.. you get to learn how to SAVE your friends. It really angers me that I have to stand here and waste your time explaining in great detail WHY you should quiet down and pay attention.. because I just want to help you to save the lives of our fellow troops. I don't want anyone to die before I can get to them.. when you could have put a simple bandage on and bought them enough time so I COULD get there. I can't do it all. We don't have enough medics to send a medic with every one of you guys. But you guys can learn to fill in for me. So.. anyone else want to talk? Anyone else want to not pay attention? Because you know what? You can leave now. Just go ahead and walk away now and go have a relaxing couple of hours. Go take a nap or something. But just be quiet so the rest of us can learn how to save your sorry butt when you get shot."

"Yes Medic Lifeline!!" The sharp chorus reassured him.

"Alright... first thing we'll learn how to do is to check for vital signs... everyone pair up." He snagged someone for his demonstration person.

* * * *

After two hours, Lifeline looked up to see BeachHead standing at the back of the group. He was startled a little bit because he hadn't seen the Ranger even approaching. He glanced at his watch. "Alright.. that's it for now.. tomorrow afternoon.. same time. We'll work on splinting and removing helmets properly to avoid spinal injury compounding tomorrow. So bring your helmets so we can all practice." The group broke into smaller parts, general chatter over their lessons as they left for the next duty.

He walked over to beside BeachHead looking up at the balaclava covered face. "I'll be back tomorrow at the same time, barring any medical emergencies in the infirmary."

"Good. You did a good job of getting their attention. They'll learn what you teach now. I'll probably end up losing a couple of them to medic school now. Be a real pain finding replacements." Beach looked at him suddenly. "Nice job.. fer a skinny pocket-sized medic." He turned on his heel and began striding away.

Lifeline watched him walking away and suddenly raised his voice to yell to him. "I'm five-eight AND A HALF!!!" He turned back to start packing up his medical gear and nearly tripped over Jinx. The tiny woman looked up at him with dark eyes holding a constant spark of secret amusement. "Sorry! I didn't see you.."

"You're not supposed to, gaijin... I'm a ninja, remember?" She smiled suddenly and glanced past him at BeachHead who was nearly at the motorpool. "Beach giving you grief about being short?" Her heart-shaped face tipped sideways as she looked up at him. "You know.. he's only giving you a hard time to get you riled up. Being smaller isn't a bad thing. Means you'll be a smaller target and harder to hit."

"Well, I don't intend to be shot at.. so thanks. Just.. they act like I'm a freaking dwarf or something. I'm not that much shorter than they are." He pressed his lips together in annoyance. "Sorry.. can I help you?"

"No not really. I just wanted to tell you that I took some medical supplies. I left a list on your desk though." Her voice was light and unconcerned. "Normally I'd get it from the front desk, officially with a requisition form and all.. but I'm leaving now, no time to resupply officially."

He shook his head, kneeling to begin packing up the bag of items spread on the clean canvas on the ground. "It's not a problem. I'll use the list to make the requisition form out for you and sign off on it. Just don't make a habit of stealing the supplies first and asking second.. okay?" He turned with a smile and saw empty field. "Jinx?" Sighing he shook his head. "Yes.. ninjas.. really."

* * * *

End Chapter:

So he's almost got his new uniform.. he's taken on full medic responsibilities by beginning to train other troops. And although he's 'seen' those ninja-like commandos do ninja-like things.. he's just not quite believing in ninja quite yet.

I decided how tall Lifeline was by guessing that most of the guys in GI Joe would be a tall-average of 6 ft. Lifeline has always seemed just a bit shorter.. so 5'8" seemed reasonable without being ridiculously short. The last half-inch is Lifeline's vanity. He'd be dwarfed by someone like Roadblock or HeavyDuty.. while BeachHead, SnakeEyes or Stalker would all be about the 6 ft average. Of course, he's a lot more slender, holding to comics and cartoons.


	13. Chapter 13:Being a Medic

Chap13

I know it's officially been FOREVER since this was updated. I promised I didn't forget it. I lost a great deal of this story when the laptop went down. Since that was the second time I've lost a huge chunk of this story, it was sufficiently discouraging that I set it aside for a while. But.. here it is again. This is even a long chapter(over 8 THOUSAND words!) so hopefully it will amuse and satisfy Lifeline's fans. There's a LOT of Joes mentioned in here, all of them are real characters from the comics. The only ones not from the GI Joe franchise are Uban, Finnegan, Sticks and Stacks. These are greenshirts and support staff only. You've met those earlier in the fic.

Please feel free to review on the full chapter, or message me with comments. I love to hear whether my readers are happy with a story or not.

* * * *

True to his word, Stacks appeared in medical two days later with a bundle of coveralls. Giving the medic a wry smile, he tipped his head sideways. "You're sure you don't want black ones? Look really good?"

Lifeline shook his head. "No.. no black, I like the red. It's medic red. Perfect. Did you get me a few extras?" He patted himself down, smoothing the red cloth he wore.

Stacks gave a sigh and handed over the bundle. "Here you are. Anything you want changed? Maybe a good dye job to a more.. 'un-shooty' color?"

Seizing the bundle eagerly, Lifeline shook one of the coveralls out. "Nooo.. I think it's perfect! Oh look at all the pockets! Look!! You put 'Rescue' on the leg!! I love it! Why 'Rescue' instead of 'Medic'? Not that I mind.. I like it just fine! Thank you."

"Well.." Rubbing his neck and looking a bit embarrassed, Stacks lowered his voice. "Honestly? We didn't have any letter M's in our stock of iron-on's. Sorry. I did find a whole batch of the red cross thingy for you though." He pointed at the symbol prominently displayed over the chest. "A couple of the guys said I should stick one on the butt. Well.. and Gung-Ho saw it when I was finishing it up and said it was a set of cross-hairs for the first enemy with a gun.. but hey. It's your skin."

Despite the discouraging words, Lifeline was still pleased. "Well, I think it's superb. Thank you." He picked up one foot to show off his mostly white boots. "The Scotchgard has helped a lot too."

Stacks shrugged. "You're not our first Joe to outfit, you know. Oh.. your flight helmet is drying. I'll send it up later today. We just painted most of it red to match your new 'please-aim-here' outfits." The assistant quartermaster waved off the thanks. "It's what we're here for. Just remember us when vaccine time comes around and save the little bitty needles for our hind ends."

Lifeline had to laugh at that quip and took his new uniform to show off to Doc. Later he would show up in the new improved uniform to PT, with Beach throwing his hands in the air and declaring that "At least the rest of us will be safer.. what with every Cobra operative shootin' at the bright red target out there.". Then he proceeded to begin putting Lifeline through a new intensive training program for dodging and ducking incoming fire. Lifeline tried to think of it as BeachHead being concerned for his safety. Mostly he just stayed too sore to get out of bed in the mornings without whimpers. It worked.

* * * *

Lifeline had finally gotten through most of the first aid training for the greenshirts. There would be updated lessons as people rotated through or opted for additional training. True to BeachHead's prediction, two of the greenshirt troops had opted out to go through medic school. Although Beach outwardly grumped and griped over it, he confessed over dinner one evening that he thought the military could always use more medically trained personnel willing to go into combat conditions.

Another surprising turn of events, Lifeline was spending an occasional dinner at a table with his old instructor. There was rarely anyone sharing a table with the prickley Sergeant major. He didn't seem to seek out any companions very often. Other than spending time with the silent ninja on the rare occasion he came to the rec room, the odd night spent poring over a book of theology or human behavior with Lady Jaye and the less often evening spent reading a book or hunched over paperwork in a corner somewhere.. BeachHead tended to disappear after eating in the messhall. Lifeline still managed to catch Uban or Finnegan for dinner. Uban came into the infirmary once for stitches under her chin after she tumbled into the concrete bunker used for the targets for the rifle range.

The few stitches she needed only took twenty minutes. He'd carefully numbed her chin and under her jaw and then made certain to repair the small wound so it wouldn't scar. He'd been more concerned than she had to tell the truth.

She'd finally pushed his hand away. "It's fine! Geez.. it's under my chin.. no one is ever going to see it anyway."

He sighed. "Alright fine, you're done. Go on and strut around and show off how tough you are." He shook his head as she got off the table grinning. "I swear.. Beach teaches all of you to think you're indestructible."

She twisted and blinked long lashes at him. "Sergeant major toughens us up. Besides... it keeps you from having to put bandaids on every little booboo we get." He shooed her out of the infirmary, making her laugh as she retreated.

"Some days I wonder if anyone assigned here is sane." Lifeline thought he was talking to himself so when the deep voice answered him, he jumped.

"Medics included?" Doc smiled as his medic clutched his chest theatrically. "Sorry.. didn't mean to startle you quite that badly. Did you stitch up Uban okay?"

"Yes.. it was minor. More minor to her than to me I think." Lifeline's lean form folded into a chair. "Is there anyone on this team that doesn't resist medical assistance?"

Doc sighed at him. "Well.. Shipwreck and Clutch come in pretty often.. but I think it's more of an attempt to get out of PT than a honest desire to be cooperative with the medical staff. Now.. if we had some pretty nurses.. those two would break their own legs to get in here. Or... maybe they'd just mouth off to BeachHead and let him break them instead.. they'd get more sympathy points that way."

"Is it disturbing that I understand your reasoning and agree with it?" Lifeline stretched and then reached to pick up the report he needed to fill out on Uban's minor injury. Half the afternoon passed by without any further treatment to injured or ill Joes. He did have to take the time to go change the bandages on the regular patients who wandered in for their daily dressing changes and checks. He really did feel as if the Joe team were finally beginning to trust that he could hand them an aspirin if they needed it. He was still given wary looks with anything that required diagnosing, but each time that Doc was called in for the inevitable second opinion and chastised the patient by concurring with Lifeline's diagnosis, it reenforced his medical authority just a tiny bit more. At the rate he was going, in only a few decades, he'd be considered able to put a bandaid on a ninja without help. He snorted to himself.

The distinctive triple beep sounded loudly and brought him to his feet, rushing to grab up the medical bag even as he listened to find where the medical emergency was.

"Medic to the PT courses ASAP... medical emergency on the PT courses.. Medic requested ASAP." As the announcement repeated, Lifeline dashed out, yelling back to the duty desk that he was taking the call. He rushed to the lift, pushing past figures in the hallway without qualm. Most everyone who saw him coming, moved quickly out of his way. A good point in favor of his highly visible uniform. "Make a hole!" Three startled Joe's pressed themselves up against the walls as he darted past with his emergency bag.

The lift seemed to move so slowly and finally he emerged in the motorpool and took off running for the PT courses. Coming into sight, he immediately spotted a group of Joe's crowded up together looking concerned. "Hey.. lemme through!! Medic!" People moved to let him pass and he found an unfamiliar Joe crouched over a figure with BeachHead kneeling on the other side. "What happened?"

The Joe with the mustache and padded sleeve looked up at him. "Junkyard.. he took a bad fall. I dunno why he fell, he was doing just fine!"

BeachHead moved aside for the medic to get in. "He didn't have a good grip at the top and went down.. he rolled down the A-frame, didn't fall off the end. He's been out fer a good five to ten minutes though."

Lifeline crouched down and blinked at the dog laying on the ground. "That's.... that's a dog."

Shakily petting the unconscious animal's head, the Joe frowned at him. "He's a rottweiler.. it's Junkyard.. you gotta help him. Maybe he has a concussion."

Suspecting some sort of prank, Lifeline looked around at the crowd and finally fixed his gaze on BeachHead. "It's a dog. I treat people."

Rather than answer him, BeachHead lunged across the limp dog to grab at the Joe before he could get a hold of the medic. "HEY!! Stand down, Mutt! He didn't mean it like that!"

Mutt wrestled at the drill instructor, struggling to shove him aside. "Junk is people!! What are you tryin' to say!? Lemme at him!!" BeachHead easily kept him contained. "Don't you say Junk ain't people!!"

Alarmed, Lifeline held up his hands. "I.. uhh.. I didn't mean it like that.. I'm not a specialist for dogs.. I wouldn't want to do something wrong! That's all!" A bit mollified by that unlikely explanation, Mutt settled down some and finally pushed Beach to the side a little bit. "So umm.. how long has Mutt been unconscious?"

The Joe scowled at him and knelt back by his dog. "I'm Mutt.. he's Junkyard! He's been out since he fell.. maybe ten minutes."

Lifeline bent over and looked to see if the dog was breathing. He seemed almost like he was asleep and the medic struggled to think of something he could do for an unconscious dog. "Well.. let's give him some oxygen.. and I guess.. we should check to see if he's broken any bones." He thought. "Someone bring a stretcher and I'll see if Doc will take some Xrays down in the infirmary." He figured he might as well inflict the weirdness on his boss too. After all, Doc had been around longer, he probably knew how to tell this guy that they treated humans.. not dogs. He pulled out the small bottle of O2 and held the mask over the snout. "He's breathing pretty good. Maybe he's just been knocked out a little."

Mutt scooped the huge dog up in his arms. "We shouldn't wait for a stretcher.. I'll just carry him."

At a loss as to how to deal with it all, Lifeline gave up. "Okay.. you carry him.." They moved to the lifts in the motorpool while BeachHead yelled everyone back to the PT session. "I didn't even know we had K9 units in GI Joe.."

"Junkyard's the best!" Mutt seemed fine holding the weight of the limp dog. "I hope he's okay. You're gonna be fine, boy! Lifeline will fix you right up!" There was a soft whine and Mutt pressed his cheek to the dog's head. "I know.. you're okay boy!"

Shaking his head, Lifeline led them into the infirmary, pointing to a exam room and calling for Doc in his office. "Umm.. Junkyard fell and he's... unconscious.. do you want to talk to.. uhh.. Mutt?"

Doc hurried into the room. "Is Junkyard okay? Let's see.. move over Mutt... I'm sure he's fine." Turning to the confused medic, the physician nodded towards the back. "Get the Xray set up and we'll get Junk some pictures taken." The dog whined a few times and picked his head up.

"Ooohhhhkay." Lifeline gave up trying to make sense of any of it and set the Xrays up. He held the slobbering face still while Doc snapped the pictures and then let Mutt back into place to stroke the panting dog's head. "He's looking a lot better.. uhh.. I'm sure he'll be just fine."

Mutt grinned widely at his dog. "Great! See, Junk? I told you Lifeline would fix you up."

Twisting his face slightly, Lifeline left the room and found Doc peering at the Xrays. "Yeah.. so when do you tell him we're supposed to treat humans.. not canines?"

Doc snorted. "I wouldn't let him hear you say that. We treat all Joes.. whether they have two legs or four legs. Junkyard is a valuable member of the team. Those two are a highly trained pair. So we treat Junkyard in emergencies. Of course, he has a regular vet to see for routine things, but Joe can't keep a vet on staff for two dogs." He set the last Xray down. "He's fine. Probably had the breath knocked out of him. You can go tell Mutt that he can take him out. Keep him quiet for a couple days and if he looks like he's in pain, I'll call up the vet to find out what painkillers are safe to give him and all that."

Lifeline sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose slightly. Adjusting his glasses, he finally took a deep breath and entered the room again. "Good news, Mutt. Junkyard is fine. Doc just looked at all the Xrays and said that he probably was just knocked around and should be fine. Keep him quiet a couple of days and come see Doc if he seems to be in a lot of pain. Okay?"

Mutt lifted the heavy rottie down off the table and reached to clasp Lifeline's hand. "Thanks! I was real worried! But he's all good! You're good to go boy!! Yeah!! Tell Lifeline bye!" The dog jumped on the medic and tried to slobber on him. Then he dropped to all fours and whined some. Lifeline bent and petted his head a few times while Mutt looked on proudly. "Yeah.. see? He likes you. It's okay Junk.. come on.. I'll get you some treats.. you want treats?"

Lifeline watched the pair exiting the infirmary and shook his head. Each time he believed he'd gotten through the worst of the odd things that happened here.. something newly weird would pop up to remind him that GI Joe wasn't the ordinary posting.

* * * *

Doc coughed several times and then blew his nose vigorously. "Sorry Ed.. I know you're still not really comfortable being in charge by yourself."

Lifeline shook his head and handed his boss a box of tissues. "It's fine. Go rest up. You're sick and running a fever. Go get some sleep and try to get better. It's been a quiet morning, I'm sure I can handle whatever comes in." He shooed Doc out of the infirmary.

Standing in the front desk area, he put his hands on his hips and looked around, almost feeling the weight settling on his shoulders. He was in charge of the infirmary. He was In Charge. That meant when something happened, it was him that had to make sure the injured were cared for properly. He snorted at himself. What injured? The Joe team were remarkably healthy and very good at keeping out of the medical personnel's clutches.

Sighing at the quiet ward, Lifeline went to check on the two patients he did have in beds. Torpedo was his first patient.. with a heavily bandaged leg. The Navy SEAL had taken a round in his leg and was sleeping under heavy pain medication. "How are you feeling today, Torpedo?" He watched the sleepy eyes open up and he repeated his question.

"Ehh... alright I guess." The Navy man blinked a few times. "How's my leg looking?"

Lifeline cut through the bandaging. "Oh.. it's healing up. Another few days and you'll be up on crutches. How's the pain?"

"Oooo.. what pain? You guys give me all this good medicine and I don't feel nooo pains. Heck.. I could go run Beach's worst course right now.. backwards." Torpedo grinned at his medic. "Don't worry.. I won't. If I voluntarily ran PT, you guys might lock me into a rubber room."

"Very funny. This is looking very good. Are you hungry?" Lifeline bent to look into the lean SEAL's face and blew softly to wake him up. "Are you hungry? You need to eat."

"Ahh.. noo. Don't want food. I'm all kinds of queasy. Don't want to eat. Later." Torpedo's eyes drifted shut again and Lifeline let him go back to sleep. The bullet wound in his thigh was in a bad spot and had caused a lot of pain even as it healed. They would cut back on the pain meds that night and lessen the amount bit by bit as it got better. Right now the SEAL mumbled softly in his sleep. "Moookie..."

"Okay.. rest up. I'll be back later." Finishing with the tape on the bandage, he tugged the blankets back over the sleeping patient and peeled off his gloves as he headed for the second occupied bay.

A sharp call from the front treatment area stopped him. "Lifeline! Patient!" Sticks gave him a wave. "Gotta nasty sliced hand in here for you."

"Coming." Remain calm, cool and collected. A cut hand meant a few stitches. Not a big deal. He slipped gloves on as he entered the exam room and found the slightly heavyset Bazooka seated up on the table. "Alright then.. let's see. What happened?"

"I was cutting up carrots." Bazooka held out a hand, blood running freely down the fingers. Lifeline took it to examine the deep slice on the side. "It hurts kinda bad."

"I bet it does." A moment to decide how to best repair the wounded hand and Lifeline ordered up a suture kit and some betadine scrub to clean it thoroughly. After a bit of scolding and wrestling, Lifeline got several shots of anesthetic in to numb the wound. Alpine arrived in short order to fuss at his friend. Bazooka protested both the fussing and the cleaning. "Hold still.. don't antagonize my patient, please Alpine."

Alpine held up his hands, rolling his eyes. "I'm not antagonizing him! The big doofus is just acting ridiculous cause he was clumsy and cut himself!"

Bazooka hunched his shoulders and looked sullen. "Wasn't clumsy.. I bit my tongue chewing my gum and then I cut my hand cause the knife slipped. Not my fault."

Lifeline reassured him. "It's okay Bazooka. Everyone has accidents. Even Alpine probably has accidents. So maybe Alpine should go do something else.. like take over your shift on KP." The significant look he gave the expert mountaineer made him back up a few steps. "Unless he has pressing business elsewhere, that is?"

"Oh yeah.. pressing business.. gotta lotta that.. I better go get to pressing on that business right now. Bazooka.. you take care.. Lifeline will fix you right up." Alpine disappeared quickly and Lifeline finished up the stitches in his patient's hand.

Bazooka looked at his hand. "It's all numb."

"Yes.. remember those stinging shots I gave you in your hand? Those will wear off in about half an hour. Then it's gonna hurt. So.. take this to the front desk. They'll give you some pills for pain. You'll take them like it says on the bottle. Got it? Come back tomorrow for me to check on this. And no PT. If Beach says you should, you tell him to talk to me." Lifeline smiled and gave the man a good pat on his shoulder. "You can go. No more KP today, just go rest up for now."

"Okaay. BeachHead might get mad at me if I don't do PT." Bazooka looked reassured when Lifeline repeated that he could send the drill sergeant to the doctors if he objected. "Okaay."

Lifeline watched him talking to the desk intern and took a deep breath. "Well.. there was my one patient for the week." He lifted his voice to carry to Sticks. "Hey.. I'm going to check on Ripcord." His roommate nodded distractedly.

Walking back to the second bay, he stepped in with a quick rap on the door. "Hey Ripcord.." He glanced up just in time to see Ripcord flinging himself flat and arranging his face into a picture of misery. "Don't even try it. Your concussion is over with.. so I'm kicking you out."

Letting out a theatrical moan, Ripcord put a weak hand up on his forehead. "Oh man.. okaaay.. I still feel really woozy.."

"That's too bad. If you happen to have to stay another night, you'd miss another day of PT. I know you'd hate that." Ripcord couldn't suppress the smile. "Of course.. if you have to stay because of the concussion.. I'll have to put you on a strict medically advised diet for the rest of today and tonight. I might have to recommend beef broth with fruit juice for a few days."

Ripcord sat up. "But.. but tonight is lasagna night!" Lifeline nodded blandly. "Oh HELL no! I'm better.. look at me getting out of the bed and leaving." He was up and getting dressed almost faster than the medic could get out of the way. "I'm not missing lasagna just to get out PT for one day. I happen to KNOW, my man Roadblock is making the good garlic bread tonight too."

Lifeline went back to his desk to finish the airborne infantryman's paperwork as he rushed out, pulling his teeshirt on his head as he exited. "Bye Ripcord."

"Bye Lifeline!" The lean form dodged around Barbeque who was clutching at his leg and hobbling into the receiving area. "He's in a mood.. might not want him taking care of you... just saying!"

Lifeline scowled after the departing paratrooper. "I'm not in a mood!" He reached to take one of Barbeque's arms. "What happened? Is your pant's leg burned?"

"Yeah well.. sorta. I kinda spilled hot oil on my leg.. and it kinda burned me... and then it sorta caught on fire.. see?" The Joe's firefighter let out a strained chuckle. "I guess it's a little ironic.. the firefighter caught on fire..."

"Well.. maybe a little... here.." Lifeline helped him up onto a treatment table. "Let's cut this pant's leg away and see how bad it is."

"Oh.. it's not all that bad.. maybe second degree burns.. slap some salve on it and a sterile dressing. The boys in the kitchen sorta get all upset when a guy catches on fire though.. so I figured I'd better come see you. I ain't come to see you fellows in a while anyway!" Barbeque seemed entirely too cheerful for a guy sporting a charred up leg. He stretched his leg out and helped tug the burned cloth aside as Lifeline cut it. Sticks came in and helped remove the pant's leg, bringing in the burn kit.

The head medic cleaned the burns and poked it a little. "I think you're right.. looks like first and second degree burns only."

"I better be right.. otherwise I wouldn't be much of a fireman, right?" Another light-hearted laugh and Barbeque winced as the salve went on. "Ooootch.. easy with that.. it's cold."

"I know.. it'll make it feel better though. I'm going to bandage this up.. you should know the drill. Come back first thing in the morning for a full bandage change so we can evaluate it." There was a commotion out front and Stretcher poked his head in.

The lean intern motioned at Lifeline. "Hey boss... got a emergency for you." When Lifeline didn't move quickly enough, he waved at him. "Hurry.. ASAP.."

"Coming... what do we have?" Lifeline turned back to point at Barbeque's leg. "Sticks.. bandage that up.. not too tight."

"Got it." Sticks smiled at the nervous firefighter. "Don't worry.. I'm just bandaging.. not taking blood."

Stretcher handed over a fresh set of gloves for the medic to don. "Cutter just came in.. allergic reaction.. pretty severe. He said someone sprayed a perfume on him as a joke.. but he's allergic to the lavender oil that's in it. Eyes nearly swelled shut and he's wheezing."

Entering the treatment room, Lifeline grabbed up the chart to read off the vital statistics. "Do we need to intubate?"

Cutter waved his hands and wheezed a few times before he could croak out a protest. "Nooo.. no tube.. I'm fine.."

Lifeline checked him over quickly, noting the welts that were appearing already. "You're not fine.. lie back.."

"And think of England?" Despite the harsh croak of his voice, Cutter complied, laying flat and coughing. He gagged a few times while Lifeline checked his airway.

"I'm giving you some steroids.. take away the swelling in your airway and they'll also help the hives. I want you to relax.. if you feel short of breath, I can put you on a little bit of oxygen." The medic scribbled notes on the chart and pulled the injection of meds. "Little bit of a stick here.." One quick injection and he re-checked his statistics again. "You should start feeling a difference in less than ten minutes."

"Yeah.. I feel all muscular already!" Cutter flexed his biceps and grinned at Lifeline. "I think it's working.. I can breathe a little easier."

Lifeline rolled his eyes at the quip. "It's not that kind of steroid." He listened via a stethoscope to the man's chest. "Your breathing is a lot better..." A few minutes later, Cutter coughed deeply. "Try to just breathe slowly." Adjusting the oxygen rate, Lifeline checked the hives. "I'm afraid you'll be itchy a couple days. But we can keep the worst of it down. You'll be off duty for a few days, maybe a week." One of the interns came in and motioned at the medic. "What? Here.. tell Stretcher to come keep an eye on Cutter."

"I'm okay!" Cutter tried to peer out of his puffy eyes. "Really.. I'm fine."

Lifeline sighed at him. "You're not fine. Just try to relax and don't take the O2 mask off."

Stretcher passed him in the doorway, shaking his head. "Dusty's in treatment room one."

Leaving the assistant to watch over Cutter, Lifeline moved down to the first treatment room. "Hey Dusty. What.. oh my lord!"

Dusty grinned and put the ice pack back over his swollen eye. "Looks terrible huh? A bee stung me."

"On the eye?" Lifeline moved his hand aside. "The stinger is still there.. let me remove it." While he grabbed up some tweezers, Dusty tried to poke at it. "Stop.. let me take care of it. You'll just push the stinger in worse."

"Well it smarts! This crazy bee flew right at me.. and I sorta swatted at it. I knocked it right into my face. It hurts." Dusty tilted his head back so that the medic could grasp the tiny stinger and pull it loose. "Ouch..."

"There." Lifeline sighed and poked around the swelling. "I'll get you an antihistamine injection. Are you breathing okay?"

"Oh yeah.. I'm fine.. it just hurts and it's like.. my eyeball." Dusty tried to rub at it and had his hand grasped.

"Don't rub at it. And it's not your eyeball.. it's just your eyelid." Lifeline lifted the ice pack and pressed it into place. "Just hold that there." A moment to prepare the injection and he held up the syringe. "Alright.. little shot in the arm.. " Dusty winced away. "Oh stop that.. it's a tiny prick. I've seen you take blows from SnakeEyes in hand-to-hand.. and I know you've fallen off obstacles on the PT field. You shouldn't even notice a tiny little shot."

"Well it's hurts!" Dusty watched out of his good eye. "Will my eye be okay?"

"Your eye is fine. The swelling should go down overnight. It'll be sore.. don't rub at it.. don't scratch at it or press on it. Just let it be, put an ice pack on it if you want to. Take some tylenol and don't swat at bees." Lifeline gave him a smile. "Toughen up there. It's just a little bee sting."

"Yeah yeah.. walk it off. You hang out with Beach too much." There was a loud commotion out front and Lifeline turned to look with some confusion. "Sounds like you got another patient."

"Yeah.. you can go. Just rest for a while, come back if it gets worse.. or if your tongue swells... things like that." Lifeline rushed out to find half a dozen greenshirts in various states of injury coming in, some helped by their friends. "What happened??"

One gave him a sheepish look as he was helping his friend up onto an exam table. "Well.. we were on the PT course.. and a bunch of us sort of fell onto the log supports." Lifeline shook his head and called for the interns. Directing the less injured to a treatment room for Stretcher to see to, he took on a broken arm himself. Ordering up Xrays for two others, he had all hands on deck to treat three with broken bones, while two had only bruises. He still managed to take the time to check on poor Cutter who gave him a thumb's up from his bed where he was resting fairly comfortably, although itchy.

The desk nurse came in when he was fastening the splint on one young private's arm. "Phone.. Doc is asking if you're doing okay or if he needs to come in."

Lifeline took the phone in the room and tucked it onto his shoulder while he continued to fasten the splint wrappings. "Hey.. no no. Everything is fine, Doc. No. You just rest. I've got the infirmary. No, everything is fine." He finished tucking in the bandage and released the arm, motioning the greenshirt to stay seated. "No Doc. Okay... you rest. Take a nap. Do you need some soup or something? Okay then. Yes. Go nap." He hung the phone up and wiped his forearm across his face. "Okay.. I want you in the back room.. bay four. Just go lie down, I'll send in something for pain. You'll be able to leave later tonight." The greenie slid off the table and headed back to find his bed. "Man.. what is going on?"

A quick check showed him that the broken leg was already cast and just drying. The broken wrist was in a simple splint. Tylenol and ice packs were prescribed for the others. A familiar bellow caught Lifeline's attention and he stormed up to the receiving area just as BeachHead scruffed up one of the uninjured greenshirts.

"Hey!" Lifeline strode up. "HEY!! Turn him loose!" BeachHead turned to scowl down at him. "I SAID! Turn him loose! And while you're here, I'm going to protest the brutality of you causing these guys to get injured this severely! There's no reason for it! You have half a dozen injured men who'll be out for weeks in some cases! All due to your so-called 'training'. I've had quite enough of..."

One of the greenshirts spoke up hesitantly. "Lifeline.. we didn't.."

"Shush!" Lifeline turned back to the Sergeant major who had dropped the greenshirt in his hand and crossed his arms to scowl at the medic. "You keep pushing people past what a human can do and you'll end up with half the team in here!"

"Really?" BeachHead leaned in a bit closer and Lifeline struggled not to step away. "Are ya done? Or would ya like to continue shoving yer foot into yer mouth?"

"I.... you don't even care that you caused three men to be in here with broken bones!" Incensed, the medic lowered his voice slightly. "I've half a mind to put in a formal complaint with Duke."

Beach snorted. "Go fer it. Yer report can get tossed out with the rest. I didn't cause no one to get injured."

"Oh NOOooooo! It's never your fault!" Lifeline twisted to glare at the greenshirt tugging on his sleeve. "What?"

"We weren't hurt during PT. Sergeant major wasn't out there. We were.. uhh.. well. Dogie there bet Ambrose that he couldn't walk the upper beam that holds the rope bridge in place... so then Dickie said he could do it faster.. and well.. some of them kind of fell off at the end. But Sergeant major never told none of us to climb up on it or nothing. We weren't even supposed to be out on the course, rightly." The earnest face seemed a little shamed. "We're sorry we caused all this stuff to happen though."

Beach snorted louder this time. "Danged right yer sorry. Ya'll buncha trouble-makers got me three guys down now. Who's gonna go making up fer them being out? Buncha pogues don't do nothin' but cause me headaches."

"Sorry Sergeant major."

Beach turned a baleful glare onto the medic. "So if'm yer done upbraidin' me fer stuff what I didn't do.. I need a report on the injured and who will be out on medical leave fer how long."

Lifeline swallowed carefully. "Uhh.. yes. I'll get that to you by the end of the shift."

"Good." Without waiting for the apology he was due, Beach turned on his heel to leave. "Ya'll clear outa the infirmary.. Lifeline don't need ya'll clutterin' up the danged place." The uninjured greenshirts all jumped up and followed him out like a pack of eager hounds.

Lifeline stripped off his latex gloves and sighed. "Wow. Foot in mouth. Why does it always have to be Beach? Geez." He headed back to check on Torpedo but got called back up front to find a very embarrassed looking Clutch standing at the front desk. "Can I help you?"

"Well..." Clutch sighed. "It's poison ivy. I knew it was poison ivy.. and I was careful.. but.. I must have gotten some of the oil on me anyway. It's really horrible."

Lifeline sighed at him. "Of course it is.. where's the rash."

"My nose." Clutch looked up at him and the medic peered at his face in confusion. "In.. my nose."

"You... " Closing his eyes, Lifeline thought about it for a second. "You got poison ivy up your nose?"

Clutch held up his hands. "Well.. see what happened was.."

Lifeline held up a hand. "Stop. I really don't want to know. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation. Let me just get you some ointment. Just... just don't." One tube of ointment dispensed and he headed back to Torpedo's room again.

Waking up the SEAL again, Lifeline checked him over. "I want you to eat something.. even just broth."

Torpedo groaned and reached to rub at his eyes. "I feel all kinds of foggy. Don't wanna eat."

"Well.. just a cup of broth? You drink a small cup of broth and I'll leave you alone for a while. How's that for a deal?" The encouraging tone made his patient sigh and agree. "Good.. I'll send someone in with a cup of soup.. you want chicken or beef?"

"Vegetable stock.. " Torpedo glared at him then rolled his eyes as Lifeline grinned. "Stop baiting me.. I'm all injured and stuff here."

"Couldn't resist the temptation. So hang in there." Lifeline ducked as an empty water cup was thrown at him. "Okay.. okay. I'm going." A low rumble of voices out front made Lifeline groan. "What now?"

Headed back out to the reception area, he found four Joes waiting. "What's wrong?"

"Bees... dang bees..." Shipwreck clutched at his neck and held up a swollen wrist. "We're all stung up!"

"What??" Lifeline shook his head. "Let me guess... you decided to punish the bees for stinging Dusty."

RockNRoll whined. "Well.. nooo.. it's more like the bee nest.. but that bee shouldn't have gone and stung our bud!"

Sighing, the medic motioned them into a treatment room. "Yes.. well.. you sure showed them."

Short-fuse and Grunt both had three stings in them and RockNRoll had two. Shipwreck on the other hand had elected to use the 'swat at the air' method of avoiding bees, and thus had seven. Removing the stingers took only a little bit of time and Lifeline dosed everyone with antihistamines, and scolding all of them about messing around with stinging insects. All four Joes protested that they couldn't let the bees get away with stinging their friend, causing Lifeline to toss his hands in the air and give up.

"If anyone gets short of breath or your tongue starts to swell.. come RIGHT BACK. Do you understand? If you suddenly have a reaction to the bee venom, you could get into dangerous trouble before you realize it. So pay attention. Just put ice packs on the stings if you want to, and stay out of trouble. Shipwreck.. come back in the morning even if you feel okay. And no PT for you in the morning." Before Shipwreck could get his grin completely plastered onto his face, Lifeline pointed a finger at him. "You will be fine for afternoon PT though.. so don't get too gleeful. And Beach is in a poor mood, just warning you."

"Greeeat." The small group wandered back out, with a small scuffle breaking out when Grunt poked one of the worst stings on RockNRoll for the sheer fun of tormenting his friend.

Lifeline yelled down the hallway. "HEY!! No fighting in the infirmary!" They straightened up and left in a rush. "Geez."

Before the medic could even get headed to his desk, he heard BeachHead yelling again, and came back up to the front to find the drill instructor hauling two slightly charred greenshirts by their collars. "Lifeline! Treat these two danged stupid pogues so Ah can beat them to danged death!"

Staring for a few seconds, Lifeline waved for the sergeant to take them into the treatment room, brushing aside the mess from the bee treatment just minutes earlier. "What happened?? Are those bee stings?? How did you guys get burned?"

Beach sat the two down rather forcibly and scowled. "Danged greenies are jus' TRYIN' to give me a aneurism. That's what happened. Ah'm up top workin' on one of the .50 cal guns on the sandrail and danged buncha stupid greenies come screamin' around the corner yellin' 'FLAMIN' BEES! RUN!! RUN FER YER LIFE!' like they was bein' chased by ninjas or something."

One of the greenshirts looked up fearfully. "But.. it WAS flaming bees.."

Beach's scowl deepened and he dragged his balaclava off to point at a bee sting on his temple. "Shut it! Ah got a bee sting on accounta ya'll bein' STUPID! Who told you to get a danged flamethrower to go and use on a danged bees nest!?"

The second one looked at the floor. "No one. BUT! But.. the bees stung the other guys.. so we thought.."

Beach interrupted. "You pogues don't think! Shut up!" He twisted to glare at Lifeline who was trying not to smile at the sight of the irate man with his hair sticking out in all directions, soaked over half of his body and with a few tiny charred marks on his pants legs and sleeves. "It ain't funny! They set fire to the danged side of the danged motorpool! Ah hadda drag a danged firehose out there to put out the fire.. and the danged bees flyin' around on fire setting us all on fire too! Danged stupid greenies!" He swatted the nearest one in the back of the head with a loud smack. "Ya'll better hope ya both have allergic reactions and DIE!"

"Yes Sergeant major!" Both of them cringed and Lifeline protested.

"Stop hitting them. Sit still.. you still have a stinger in your.. head." Lifeline tried to control himself but felt his face twisting. "Hold still.. just take me.. heh.. a second." Beach glared hard enough at him that he understood he would die a terribly messy death if he laughed right now. That was sobering enough that he grimmed up and plucked the stinger out. "Okay. How bad are the burns?"

"They ain't nothin'." Beach turned to leave. "Treat those two pogues and send them back up top to me when they're done." He walked out and Lifeline stepped to call after him.

"Get a Benedryl at the front desk Beach!" He got a grunt and a wave of one hand over the shoulder dismissing the order. "Or just suffer.. whichever you want." He ducked back into the room before Beach could turn on him. "You greenshirts must just have a death wish. Really?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." One held out an arm to have the two stingers removed. They did have a few little coin sized burns, but they were minor enough to not need anything.

Lifeline shook his head as he plucked stingers out of the flesh of both young men. "Right. It seemed like a good idea to use a flamethrower to set a bunch of angry bees on fire.. then lead them straight to the most homicidal Joe on base. So not only did you get stung.. and get set on fire... you managed to get BeachHead stung and set on fire. Then you also have him angry at you.. and he also had to go put OUT the fire you set." He looked at the two of them. "You're lucky he didn't just throw you both on the fire to smother it."

"Yes Medic Lifeline." The sheepish looks he got made him resigned to 'stupid grunt tricks' for the foreseeable future. He'd really thought he would get used to the ridiculously dumb things that bored Army guys could get into. But they always managed to reach new heights and surprise him.

He waved them out. "Go on.. get some benedryl at the desk.. take a tylenol for pain. If Beach lets you go, you can put ice on the stings. If your tongue swells or you get short of breath, come back immediately.. even if you risk Beach dismembering you. Got it?" They looked a bit doubtful but nodded anyway. "Out you go then."

Lifeline headed to his office to find the huge stack of paperwork and forms waiting for him. As soon as he sat down, shouting erupted from the front and he had to rush out. "What's going on!?" It seemed there was a brawl in the receiving area and he waded into it, pulling guys out of the mix. "Stop it! NO FIGHTING!!"

"Stupid Seal!! Get off me you squid brain!" "Make me you, overblown gorilla!" The two main fighters in the center were finally dragged off each other. "I'll make you! I'll make you cry to your mommy!"

Lifeline got between them as they lunged at each other. "KEEP THEM SEPERATE!! STOP IT!" With the addition of Stretcher, they got them pushed away from each other. "Cut it out!"

"He broke my nose!" Leatherneck pointed at the SEAL being held by his arms across the room.

"Yeah!! After YOU busted my knee!" Wetsuit wrestled at the guys holding him. "I'm gonna be crippled up from you, you dumb goon!"

Lifeline raised his voice. "SHUT UP!" Everyone stared at him. "You!" He pointed at the Marine. "In room four." He turned to point at Wesuit. "You into room two." With the opponents separated into rooms, he shooed at the rest. "Out.. if you're not bleeding you can leave. OTHERwise, I'll have to start checking vaccine records.." There was a undignified scramble as most everyone left. Lifeline went to room two to check on the angry Navy man's knee.

Wetsuit was still sputtering in anger. "I can't believe he kicked me in the kneecap! That buzzard-eating garbage head!" Lifeline bent the leg a few times and got Stretcher to bring in the Xray machine to get a few shots of the joint.

"I don't think anything is broken.. but the Xrays will show if there's any hairline fractures. Just settle down. You two are always at each other's throats. And don't think I'm fooled one bit. You tried to break his elbow last time you were fighting." Wetsuit tried to protest but quieted at the glare.

Moving over to the other room, he found Leatherneck expounding on the SEAL's many faults. "Stop it." The Marine shut his mouth but looked sulky over it. "Let me see your nose." A quick tug straightened out the broken nose. He ignored the yelp of pain.

There was a muffled call from through the walls. "Was that the wimpy Marine crying like a girl!?"

Lifeline held up a finger to stop Leatherneck from responding although he looked murderous. The medic strode out to the doorway and spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear him. "Wetsuit.. if I hear one more word out of you, I'll repeat that statement to Sergeant Scarlett complete with the disdainful tone you uttered it in. Understood?" He got a fearful nod as his reply. "Good."

He returned to the room to put tape over the broken nose. Leatherneck looked at him respectfully. "I never knew a pacifist could be so.. vicious."

Lifeline fixed him with a serious look. "Well, I suggest you remember that fact when you decide to waste my time, the team's resources, and your teammate's health by fighting over stupid insults. Because if I have to treat either of you again anytime soon, I'll actually get angry... and you don't want to see me get angry... do you?" Leatherneck shook his head solemnly. "Good. Because when I get angry, I make Beach look like the tooth fairy."

Leatherneck got a very sly smile. "Sooo.. how much trouble can I get out of by threatening to repeat that to our good Sergeant major?"

Although Lifeline felt a slight trickle of sweat roll down his back at the thought, he kept a calm exterior. "Go ahead. Would you like to start that war of blackmail? Remembering that I have access to things that can make you so miserable that you'll welcome the eighteen shot series of injections to cure what I gave you?"

Leatherneck closed his mouth and nodded. "You win."

The medic snapped his gloves off and headed to do his paperwork. "I like winning."

* * * *

End Chapter

Well, I hope this satisfies the Lifeline fan club! He's such a great little medic and he's really starting to come into his own. Obviously he can definitely take on the worst in the Pit! Good thing Doc has a good second-in-command for the medical section.

As always thank YOU for reading.


	14. Chapter 14:Jumping

chap 14

Ahhh yessss. More of our Little Medic. Let's watch him go through airborne training. Static jumps refer to jumping out of a plane with a tether line which automatically opens the chute of the jumper. The line is hooked on a slide inside the plane on the ceiling, with the jumpers sliding the line along it to the door, then they turn loose of it and jump out. When they hit the end of the line, it rips the chute pack open, and their chute deploys. The line stays attached to the plane. This serves to have all the chutes opening at the same time, so that the group is together in the sky, floating safely to the ground. It's a standard deployment technique used in several military groups. So now you know.. and Knowing is Half the Battle!

I hope everyone is still enjoying and thank you for reading! Please feel free to review or message!

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Lifeline stood in the back of the transport plane and tried very hard to not think about what he'd had for breakfast. He and the other eleven soldiers were standing and checking each other's parachute packs and straps. He swallowed and gave the routine tugs on Finnegan's straps. "You're good." He gave a shaky thumbs up.

Finnegan looked at him and gave a small smile to reassure him. "Don't look so terrified, Lifeline. It's just a training jump, you gotta qualify to jump out of perfectly good planes.. just in case later we need you to come parachuting in to rescue us. That's what your leg says.. rescue."

He nodded and took a deeper breath. "Yeah. Yeah.. I know. I just.. I don't think there's any real good reason I can give my body to leap out into open air. Just seems like a 'bad idea' to it."

"Yep, your hindbrain does have that tendency to scream about good sense at times like this." She turned and snugged her helmet down over the bandana covering her hair. "You might want to suck it up some so Uban will calm down. She's scared she's going to freeze up in front of her beloved Sergeant major."

It was a mark of how nervous he was that the term barely caused Lifeline to twitch. "I'll try. I just never really jumped out of a plane before.. this is my airborne training." Finnegan gave him a solid thump to his chest. "Thanks.. beat me up then push me out of a plane."

"Suck it up ya pogue." BeachHead came stalking through the group of jumpers. "Form up. I said.. FORM UP!" Everyone jumped and got in order. "Check the guy in front of you, check all the straps." He tugged at Uban's straps since she was the one in front. Slapping her shoulder, he yelled over the engine noise. "You're good. RIPCORD!!" The paratrooper came from the front, all grins. "I want you out as number six, get in the middle behind Evan." He squeezed into place and bumped Lifeline behind him so the medic had to back up some.

"Gimme some space, medic-man."

Beach moved up the line and stopped at Lifeline. "You ready? You look like yer about to puke.. you ain't gonna puke are you?"

"I'll try not to, Sergeant major." Lifeline swallowed and tried to meet Beach's gaze evenly and calmly.

"You do that." His head tilted up as the light began to flash red. "Five minutes.. form it up pogues.. snap on! Dang it Evan, keep yer hand on yer hook! You tangle up everyone else behind you and I'll yank yer butt off this team so fast yer head will SPIN!" Evan grabbed his strap and hung on. "Ya'll all slide those hooks along proper, just like trainin'. Regular as clockwork.. static jumps is the easiest jumps we can do. When I say go, you jump. When the guy in front of you jumps, you step up and you WAIT until I say go.. go it?"

There was a chorus of 'yes, sergeant major' from everyone, including Ripcord although he was grinning and looking entirely too happy about jumping out of a plane. Lifeline looked up and noticed Ripcord wasn't hooked to the static line and reached to tap his shoulder.

"You're not hooked on!" He pointed up to the line and Ripcord nodded at him. "No, you're not hooked on!"

"I'm not supposed to be! If something goes wrong, I'll be chasing whoever didn't have a chute open. I'll pull my chute manually.. same as Beach." Ripcord reached around to slap Lifeline's chest a couple times. "Good spotting it though."

There was a loud chime and BeachHead moved back up to the door. "Ready!!" Everyone straightened up and Lifeline took a firmer grip on the chute line and his stomach both. "Uban! Move up!" Beach undogged the hatch and swung it open. The loud clang and the sound of the air rushing past filled Lifeline's ears despite his helmet. "UBAN!! MOVE UP!"

Leaning out slightly, Lifeline saw Uban shaking her head. Beachhead scowled at her and waved her forward. "No.. no no.. I can't!"

Beach gritted his teeth. "Not the danged front man.. .Uban! Get yer butt up to this danged door NOW!" She staggered forward a few steps out of sheer habit of obeying him. "Get up to the door! You ain't washin' out now!"

She peered up at him fearfully. "Don't fail me Sergeant major!! I just.. I can't do it!"

"Yer gonna danged well jump outa this danged plane or Ah'm sendin' ya back where ya danged well came from!!" His anger made her scoot up to the door although she held a death grip on the static line. The light blinked and turned green and Beach snarled at it. "GREEN! READY UP!" He held a hand out to Uban. "Come on. Time to jump. Just like we practiced.. come on." She clutched the line tighter. "Leggo the line.. time to jump. Come on!" She shook her head frantically and Beach cursed loudly. "Come on.. let GO!" He held out his hand to her. "Trust me.. you'll do just fine.. but you gotta jump now."

She turned loose and reached out to take his hand. "Sergeant major... I.. I just.. "

He tilted his head and grinned. "You'll thank me on the ground.. " He yanked her forward and with a shove, she went out the door. He reached up to move her static line and motioned the next greenshirt forward. "GO!" He sent the next five out quickly so that Ripcord could jump. "Watch 'em... GO!" Ripcord enthusiastically threw himself out and then suddenly Lifeline was standing next to the door staring at a pair of hard annoyed brown eyes. "You ain't gonna stall out too, are you?"

"No Sergeant major!" He pushed his clip down into place and stepped to the door. Looking out at the thin clouds, he paused.

"Out ya go!" He felt the nudge and he bent his knees and pushed out. His arm wrenched painfully and he felt a powerful hand grab the strap across his ribs and yank him back in. "Ya gotta TURN LOOSE of yer static line!" Beach pried his clenched hand off the static line which had yanked him to a stop when he'd forgotten to turn it loose. "Hands across yer chest... do you remember how?"

"Yes Sergeant major." Colored bright red, Lifeline turned back to the door and waited.

"Go!"

He launched himself out, embarrassment covering all of his fear at least until he felt the nothingness supporting his body. He tensed himself up and counted to three and right on cue, his static line yanked and his chute tumbled free of the pack. He jerked around and finally one last giant Whump! and the chute opened up properly. He looked up and saw the open silk above his head and reached to take the steering lines.

Floating over open sky, looking down at the patchwork of the landscape far beneath him, Lifeline could only think of how he really should have chosen to stay on the ground to begin with. Peering around, he counted parachutes carefully and saw ten.. eleven if he included himself. After a moment, he spotted one that had been above him blocked by his own chute. So everyone was safely hanging in midair from thin scraps of silk sewn together by the lowest bidder for a government contract. He took a deep breath and tried to feel thrilled. He gave that up and tried to think of not puking at six thousand feet which is what his altimeter told him he was at.

He watched the others lower than him as they steered towards the landing zone. The lower he dropped, the more he dreaded the landing. The ground seemed to be rushing up at him. Lifeline wondered what happened to the delicate floating and drifting action he remembered the parachuting looking like when he was watching safely from the ground.

Oversteering sent him too far to the right, so he began working his way back over slowly, hoping he wasn't interfering with anyone above him. As he approached the ground, he could hear the loud shouts of triumph from a couple of the ones on the ground already. Uban's shrieks came from slightly further away as she went in for a landing too.

"Oh god.. oh god.. don't let me break both of my legs.." Lifeline took a few breaths. "Don't let me break EITHER of my legs!"

Tugging his straps, he slowed the fall as much as possible and swung his legs forward just like the training. The shock of hitting the ground startled him but he still reacted properly and managed to land and get his chute down. He began gathering it up and stowed it before BeachHead could land and begin bellowing at them all to get the chutes stowed away properly.

The Ranger had bright eyes and a jaunty walk that Lifeline rarely had seen before. The man was insane. Jumping out of perfectly good planes was crazy enough, but to enjoy it? Insane.

The gruff Ranger shouted with an amused tone in his voice. "Lifeline! You manage to drop without pukin' up on the way down?"

Lifeline nodded. "Yes Sergeant major."

"Good good. You'll be jumpin' like a pro in no time." He turned to shout across to the smaller figure hunched over her pack. "UBAN!! You survive that jump?"

She glared at him and clenched her fists. "You.. you BASTARD!! You threw me out of the plane!"

He chuckled. "Naw.. I just gave ya a little nudge towards the door."

Uban took a few steps towards him, her face getting red. "I was scared and you threw me out of the damned plane!!"

Lifeline watched the burly Ranger cross his arms and smirk at her. "Yeah? Would ya prefer I washed ya out? Next time, you'll jump by yourself. You'll see.. it gets easier."

Her face went dark and she launched at him. Lifeline scrambled over only to be waved off by Ripcord who stood nearby. The airman shook his head. "Let Beach take care of it." The medic watched Uban fly up and throw a powerful punch at Beach's head. The Ranger dodged just enough for it to miss and gave the woman a swat to her head which drove her into the grass. Uban was quick to her feet though and attacked again, landing ineffective kicks on BeachHead's thigh armor. Her strikes at his head and midsection were intercepted by powerful forearms that redirected the blows to the side. Every time she tried to tackle him, he simply drove her into the ground again.

Lifeline winced as she went facefirst into the grass again. She staggered up and spat dirt and bits of plant out and stood panting and glaring at Beach who crouched slightly waiting. She pointed at him.

"If you ever throw me out of a plane again... " She stalled out suddenly.. with nothing to use as a threat. "I'll...I'll..."

Ripcord spoke up. "You'll short-sheet his bed?" There was general laughter and she colored up. "Come on, Uban.. give it up."

She snarled instead, turning back to the amused Ranger. "Stupid backwoods hick!" and kicked a dirt clod at BeachHead and he was on top of her without warning, snatching her by the front of her harnessing and pinning her to the ground. She kicked a few times and ended up facedown in the dirt. Beach kept her pinned there with a knee in her back.

"Now... if'n yer done with yer little temper tantrum..." The instructor leaned over her to peer at the filthy angry face. "I'll overlook some piss and vinegar.. but there ain't gonna be no disrespectin' of yer instructors on my watch. Do ya get me?" She jerked trying to get loose and he leaned on her. Even with her own body armor, the crushing weight alone focused on the center of her back was painful and she finally nodded. "I don't hear ya..."

"Yes Sergeant major," she spat out. He lifted off of her and reached to pick her up by the back of her armor, setting her onto her feet and giving her a cursory brushing off. A heavy-handed pat on her back and he walked off, already yelling for people to gather their gear and get the packs ready for the run back to the pick up zone. Uban shook the bits of grass off herself and began to stuff the last of her gear into the various pockets and pouches of her pack.

Lifeline walked up. "You okay?"

She turned and shoved him roughly away. "Shut up."

He sighed. "I understand you're mad.."

Now she clenched her jaw and interrupted him. "You don't understand! You don't!" Grabbing up her things, she stalked off, swinging her pack onto her back and fastening the straps. Lifeline hefted his own heavy pack up and broke into a trot to catch up with the group as Beach harassed them into a line to head out.

The Ranger was in good humor all over again and ran herd on them, shouting loudly from the side. "Ya'll seem awfully perky to me.. I think that means ya'll need to run back to the pick up at double-time.. come on! Move it! Pick 'em up, n' put 'em down! Get movin!" The group struggled into a loping run and he grinned under his facemack. "There ya go... if'n ya'll get to the pick up site in a good enough time, I might even let ya'll ride in the truck back to base. Ya'll wanna lollygag along, and I'll know ya'll need to run back to base behind the danged truck... so what's it gonna be?"

Ripcord sped up a bit and everyone groaned and followed his lead. Beach happily loped alongside Lifeline and looked over at him. "You gonna make it?"

"I'll make it just fine, BeachHead." He took a deep breath and let it out. "You really shouldn't have thrown Uban out though.. won't you get into trouble for that?"

Beach grinned at him. "What? For a little shove in the right direction? Naw. If'n she'd gone splat.. yeah, I might have a few reports to fill out.. but I wouldn't have let her go splat." He gave a shrug. "She's too good to go and let her wash out just on accounta she's nervy 'bout jumpin' outa a plane. Can't let her go to waste."

Lifeline shook his head a bit. He was certain that in BeachHead's orderly universe, that made perfect sense. To him, they were all insane. He suddenly laughed softly at himself. He'd have to include himself in the insanity, since he was voluntarily subjecting himself not only to the physically demanding routines ordered by BeachHead.. but also the the insanity that was part of the GI Joe team in general and specifically to the craziness centered around treating the toughest group of military soldiers ever as a fairly unwanted medic that was at best considered a nuisance for wanting to at least splint their broken bones before they hared off on a new mission.

"We're all crazy."

Beach looked at him warily. "Well.. yeah. You'll get that." He looked up at the rest of the group. "You want to be the only guy running on the ground back to base? I'd pick up the pace. You might be a pocket-sized little pogue, but you'll just have to run twice as many steps if you keep draggin' ass back here instead of running proper."

Lifeline sucked it up and lengthened his stride further, beginning to feel his legs burning. "Got it.. I got it!" BeachHead's chuckle sounded a bit evil as the Ranger sped up to go harass some of the others instead of his favorite target in red.

"Come on you buncha whiny little snots! Get it goin'! That danged little medic is gonna outrun all of ya'll if'n you don't pick up the pace some! I wanna see assholes and elbows, people.. move!"

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Uban stood with Lifeline waiting patiently for her instructor to arrive. The medic was mostly puzzled as to why he'd been asked to meet with LowLight and Uban. She was up for a sniper position soon and LowLight had been ramping up all of her training. Lifeline was confused though, since he had no training session at all with LowLight, unless he counted LowLight getting to shoot at him during his obstacle course runs.

Uban was still being rather sulky over BeachHead shoving her out of the plane. Lifeline had finally figured out that she wasn't so much angry at being tossed out of an airplane... as wounded that Beach would do that to her. Doc spent half an afternoon explaining the emotional ties that occasionally formed with some of the greenshirts. No matter how much the instructor discouraged it, there would be the rare trainee that idealized him, despite his brutal training, despite his prickly personality. Sooner or later, they all learned better. Doc had found it all extremely amusing and told his second in command medic that he'd learn to spot them earlier on. Lifeline still felt rather bad for Uban, although she snapped angrily at anyone who tried to talk to her.

Lifeline sighed in relief when LowLight finally walked in. Uban stood at attention with him until the sniper waved her off. LowLight's calm mellow voice told them to relax.

"Private Uban, it's time to give you your final exam for sniping." LowLight's voice sounded almost amused as he turned to the medic. "I need you here to be a witness to me giving her the orders for her mission."

Lifeline looked from Uban to him. "Why me?"

"Because I can trust you not to leak the information to anyone, you're high enough in rank to matter, and we usually use one of the medical personnel as our failsafe. You don't have to 'do' anything at all, Lifeline. Just witness the orders, and keep your mouth shut." LowLight waited for him to acknowledge and then turned to Uban. "Alright... your mission, and your final exam to pass as a GreenShirt Sniper Qualified, is as follows..." He took a deep breath and handed over a rifle case. "This is a specially altered rifle. This is your weapon for the duration of this exercise. You will locate, approach, and then take out your target with at least one 'fatal' shot to the body. You may not shoot within the confines of the Pit's lower levels. Lower levels means anything below the ground level. Understand?"

Uban looked confused. "In the Pit? I'm supposed to shoot someone on base?"

LowLight smiled just a little bit. "It's a specially modified gun that shoots paint ammunition, called 'Simunition'. It is nearly as loud as your regular sniper rifle, has similar range, and I sighted it in myself to the same specifications as your regular rifle."

Now the greenie relaxed and nodded, getting serious. "Yes Sergeant! Who's the target?"

Now LowLight's smile widened slightly. "BeachHead." Lifeline twitched and watched Uban's face flash with a look of horror before she wiped it away and adopted a careless expression. "You will engage as a sniper mission, using concealment, taking the target out, and then you must get away without being caught. Complete this, and you'll receive your sniper tabs for GI Joe Greenshirt Brigade." She nodded and the sniper added. "If you get caught, you'll have to preform whatever punishments or beatings Beach decides on, although you will not receive any official sanctions nor will there be any reference to it in your file. Just a tip?" He watched her look at him. "Don't shoot him in the head, the Simunition can injure someone that way, it's not a regular paintgun... and don't shoot his armor. It won't count as a kill shot if you hit his armor and the paint sticks in the porous outer layer and he won't be able to clean it off. That cheeses Beach off worse than anything, so I'd avoid it."

"Got it, don't shoot him in the head, and make it a legitimate kill shot, don't get caught." She nodded grimly, but Lifeline could see the smug evilness in her eyes. She was going to enjoy her mission. He hummed softly. She'd enjoy it IF she didn't get busted.

He felt the need to speak up. "LowLight? Are you sure it's a good idea to sicc her on Beach? I mean... isn't there a better target that won't... umm.. murder everyone in sight the instant he gets shot with a paintgun?"

LowLight shrugged. "There's only three targets that she can impress me with by hitting successfully. She can go after BeachHead, because that Ranger is paranoid and constantly on alert for hostiles. She could go after SnakeEyes, because let's face it, a ninja is the hardest target ever. But also, no one in their right mind would ever shoot SnakeEyes with a paintgun.. and I don't want him coming after me for setting it up. That brings us back to BeachHead."

The sniper turned to leave and Lifeline stopped him. "Wait... you said three targets... that's only two. Who's the other target she could impress you by hitting?"

LowLight smirked. "Hawk."

Uban turned white and Lifeline nodded. "Yesss... so BeachHead it is. I hope he doesn't break any of your major bones, Uban."

"Oh.. he won't catch me." Uban slapped a clip of the special ammo into the rifle and smiled evilly. "He'll never know what hit him."

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End Chapter

Ooo, this seems like such a great idea. Let's shoot BeachHead with a super-paintball rifle. Yes. *rolling eyes* Simunition actually does exist, and once a rifle is modified slightly, it acts much like a extreme paintball type round. It's called a "marking round" and is used in training. No, you can't buy it for use at home, sorry. You can see it in action on the Military Channel's program "Special Ops Mission".


	15. Chapter 15:Sniping

Sorry this chapter took a while! I've been working on other things. Don't worry, it was never forgotten, although I appreciated the reminder from a reader. Thank you also to Karama9 who helped me out with a couple bits. You're grand!

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Chap 15

Uban settled deeper into the grass and eased herself to the left slightly. Timing her moves with the wind, she inched her way sideways through the extremely sparse ground cover. Her rifle slid alongside her, tucked up in her arms. Her ghillie suit with extra bits of dry grass tucked here and there caused her to blend into the brush and sand. Glancing up at the PT field, she located the drill instructor and looked away quickly. Like many wild animals, the wary Ranger seemed almost able to sense someone staring at him and would begin to search the area with his sharp gaze. She'd already had to freeze in place with her head down while he stood gazing off towards her general direction once. After a good ten minutes, he'd been distracted by one of her fellow greenies falling into one of his rancid mudpits and turned his attention away.

He wasn't an easy target, moving quickly and around a large area. She'd almost lined up for a good shot at him, only for him to suddenly decide that he should race after a group of laggards on the PT course. After twenty minutes of harassing them and moving through and over the obstacles, he'd settled on the far side of a large wall. Uban willfully wasted a good two minutes cursing silently at him inside her head. She knew that once she took a shot, he would know the general area it came from. It wasn't a case of popping off a quick shot and taking off running. She had to stay hidden and unseen, even with him searching her out, just like a real sniper mission.

A bright flash of red caught her attention and she watched through slitted eyes as Lifeline appeared out on the course. He went right up to the drill instructor and they seemed to talk for a minute. Uban cursed inside her head again, not daring to make even the slightest noise, worried that somehow the pacifist's beliefs had led him to warn BeachHead about the sniper mission. Instead, BeachHead waved his arms and eventually motioned for two greenshirts to go with the medic. Uban relaxed and waited as the Ranger went back to supervising the small group of new greenshirt recruits. This was the last group for the day, after which her target might go back inside for the rest of the day, depending on whether he wanted to do repairs on the course, needed to catch up his paperwork in his office, had other more mundane duties inside or out.

She eased over just a tad more and slowly moved her rifle into position.

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Lifeline stepped outside into bright sunlight and headed for the PT courses. He always felt a little apprehension, a holdover from when PT was a total misery every single day, nothing but a torment on his poor abused body. Thinking it over, it wasn't much different now, although he rarely felt like he needed to puke after PT anymore. Today, the apprehension was downright nervousness because he had no idea if Uban was about to shoot one of the more unpredictable and psychopathic members of the Joe team. As he approached, he couldn't quite help himself and peered around the area to see if he could spot any sneaking figures. There didn't seem to be anything and he hurried up to the sweating group running through the courses and preforming the usual exercises.

"BeachHead?" He firmed up his voice and spoke up louder. "BEACHHEAD!" When the balaclava covered head swung around and fixated on him, he swallowed, but headed over anyway. "BeachHead, I need two volunteers from the greenshirts."

He scowled down at the shorter medic. "What? Ya can't wait until after PT? Gotta come out here and futz around pulling guys off my PT time?"

"Well, I wouldn't.. but we need them for stress tests in a trial study, uhh.. and I need them before they get worn out from PT.. so.. " Lifeline saw movement to the side and jumped, hoping he wasn't going to get shot any moment by accident. He knew Uban was a great shot.. but what if he was between her and Beach and she took a shot? He stepped to the left and tried to focus on BeachHead.

".. and another thing, ya'll medics are always goin' and takin' my guys off, sayin' they can't do PT, when I know danged well they got no issues serious enough to call 'em off PT! Coddlin' these pogues is doin' nothin' fer the team! I know when they can do stuff and when I need to set 'em out!"

Lifeline nodded. "Yes.. yes.. I know.. can I just get two volunteers? I mean, just let me ask if anyone wants to.."

Throwing his hands in the air, Beach let out a groan. "Good gawd.. fine!" He twisted and pointed at two young men. "You! And you! Go with Lifeline and hope he ain't gonna poke ya full of needles or chop off anything you're overly attached to. Go on!" He spread his hands at Lifeline who motioned the two confused greenshirts to follow him.

Lifeline gave a polite smile to the drill instructor. "Thank you.. I'll get out of the line of.. errrr.. out of your way.." He shooed the greenshirts along with him. "I'm not going to be sticking needles in you.. it's fine. Come on." As he left the PT course he began to breathe easier. At least he wasn't going to be at ground-zero when Beach got shot. He just hoped Uban survived her final test.

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Beach snorted loudly at the efforts of the pack of greenshirts. He'd gotten a few new men in and they were finally beginning to understand what sort of torment the term "PT" meant. He suddenly twisted around to look across the open field to the fenceline. Sucking on a tooth for a moment, he let his gaze relax and roam over the general area. He knew.. just _knew_ that something was 'off' today. He just couldn't quite figure out what was wrong, other than the fact that the danged medic had nabbed two of the greenshirts because he wanted a couple of subjects for a stress test.

"Done Sergeant major!" Finnegan lept to her feet and stood at attention. Beach turned to her, trying to ignore the hair prickling along his neck. She'd been pumping out a set of fifty pushups for being too slow on the course.

He barked sharply at her. "Run the danged course again and see if'n ya can OOOWWWW!" The noise of two rifle shots died as he managed to jump nearly straight up, grabbing at the back of his thigh and his left buttock. "GAWD DAMN IT!" He twisted around just as the retort of the third round cracked. "AUUGH!" BeachHead doubled over and dropped to the dirt as chaos erupted on the PT field.

Finnegan grabbed BeachHead's shoulder strap and dragged him to the side behind the A-frame while he kicked and yelled at her. "Don't worry Sergeant major!" She grabbed up her comm unit. "We're under fire topside, full alert."

Beach struggled to sit up. "Get offa me!" He snatched the comm unit with his left hand. "Disregard that alert! Disregard full alert!" He made it to his knees despite Finnegin's best efforts to keep him down. "GET OFFA ME! STAND DOWN!" His bellow made a few of the people pause. "STAND DOWN! NOW!" He grabbed at Finnegin's arm and used it to haul himself up to his feet. "Help me up.. gawd damn it! YA'LL SHUT UP!"

The pilot greenshirt hefted his weight upright. "BeachHead, you're bleeding! Someone shot you!" There was a general outcry over her shouts.

Beach straightened himself up, holding his arm tightly to his chest. "It's paint, you buncha pogues! Damn all ya'll.. STAND THE HELL DOWN!" He watched everyone slow. "FORM UP!" Staggering and keeping his arm pinned in place, he bellowed again. "FORM THE HELL UP NOW!"

Everyone jumped to obey, arranging themselves in the standard formation. "This's a trainin' exercise fer one a the danged snipers. Alright.. front row.. take the far field, quarter it and search for the danged sniper.. second row, take the fenceline. The rest of ya'll, I wanna see a line walkin' from the edge of here.. across to the gates. That danged sniper of LowLight's has gotta be out there somewhere.. go find the little bastard." They scattered, while Finnegan stood by him for a moment. "GO on!"

"Sergeant major.. you're hurt.." She tried to protest and Beach took one threatening step towards her, growling and she broke and ran to catch up with her group.

"Danged snipin' trainees... gawd damn this hurts.." Beach tried moving his arm and hissed angrily. He twisted a little to swipe at the seat of his pants. "Little bastard shot me in the butt." He glared at the empty seeming fields and bushes. "Ya better hope like hell I don't catch ya.. "

Duke appeared looking grumpy and out of sorts. "What's going on? Who called in a false alert?" He peered at the drill instructor who tried to stand nonchalantly while gripping his immobile arm. "Is that blood on your chest?"

"Naw.. paint." Beach stood straighter as there was a flurry of activity. The greenshirts scattered back out again though and he settled back in place. "LowLight went and used me as a danged sniper trainin' target again. I done told him not to do that no more." He sniffed slightly and thought it over carefully. "Gotta be Uban. She's the one missin' today, I gotta note this mornin' that she was out 'on maneuvers' for trainin'. Dang that little slip a trouble. I'll beat her into the danged ground if she gets caught."

Duke sighed at him. "Well, it's you or Snakes. And no one will actually shoot Snakes.. even when they can see him." The field commander eyed him again. "You dislocate that shoulder again?"

Beach twitched and tried to straighten up better. "No. It's fine."

Duke fished his comm unit out. "Duke to infirmary, send a medic topside." He was glared at and shrugged. "I'm not stupid Beach.. you can't use that arm right.. so it's busted." He looked across the area at the search teams. "You think they'll find her?"

"Not if LowLight did his danged job right." Beach's glare deepened. "She didn't have no call to go shootin' me in the danged butt. That hurts." Duke snorted a few times. "It ain't all that funny."

"Why'd she do that?" The crewcut blond got himself under control.

"Probably cause she's still mad.. you know women. They hold grudges like a monkey holds a nut." Beach rubbed his hip again. "Course, she didn't have much target to choose from if'n my back was to her. Probably shot me just to get me to turn. Was a nice double tap hit though."

Duke shook his head and turned to wave as Lifeline came trotting into view. "Yeah.. over here. Give our Sergeant major a few pokes, find out what he did to his arm."

Lifeline rushed up when he spotted all the red. "Is that blood?"

"It's PAINT, dang it. I got popped right on the danged collarbone.." Beach jerked when Lifeline began feeling along the bone. "OW! Dang it.. stop messin' with it!"

Lifeline ignored the protests and finally stepped back. "I'll have to get some xrays, but it's broken." Beach protested. "Nope, I can literally feel the ends of the bone. It's broken."

Duke motioned shortly. "Take him downstairs then. GO on Beach.. I'll keep an eye on the search."

Beach limped off towards the motorpool entrance with Lifeline in attendance listening to his grumbling complaints. Duke watched the search for over an hour before he called it off. "If she's not been found by now, she's probably long gone. You're all dismissed, good effort."

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Uban saw the very satisfying leap into the air BeachHead made when her first two shots impacted his upper thigh and rear end. She immediately adjusted the aim upwards and squeezed off the third and final round to hit Beach just above the upper edge of his tactical vest. She was a bit surprised when he fell down. Ducking her head down, she tucked the rifle underneath her body and began squirming backwards along the open hard packed ground. Once she was on the far side of the slight rise, she twisted and began to crawl for her next bit of cover. Listening, she heard the familiar bellow as the Ranger took control of the uproar that had erupted when her first shot rang out.

She smiled to herself as she worked her way slowly from concealment to concealment, pausing to wait for the wind to pick up to move through some taller grasses. By the time that the greenshirts were searching the field and the areas towards the fenceline, Uban had moved herself to the very edge of the PT field. One of BeachHead's older sections had been dismantled for safety, with the extra poles and railroad ties piled up neatly to be re-used when he built new obstacles. She'd known there was no way for her to get far enough away to escape uncaught. Beach had over a dozen greenshirts with him to send out searching for her.

However, no one was searching within a hundred feet of the PT course. Duke was the only person even standing on the course, and his gaze was on the search teams, well beyond her position. Once in place next to the pile of wood, Uban tucked her head and hands in and became still. While she waited out the search, her thoughts went to her 'target'. She didn't see BeachHead anywhere, and coupled with how he'd fallen with the third shot, she worried that something had gone wrong. Her first thought had been that she'd accidentally hit him in the throat. That fear had fallen by the wayside with the first loud yell she'd identified as being from the irate Sergeant major. At least she could be reasonably certain that his throat wasn't injured. Now she'd just have to wait until the search was called off and once it was quiet, she could remove herself from the area and get back into the Pit without being caught.

She felt pleasure at the ease of taking the shot, and rather clever in her scheme of avoiding detection. Now it was just patience and a little bit of luck. Uban resisted the gnawing temptation to lift her head and check to see if Duke was looking her direction. Instead she strained her ears trying to listen to see where everyone was. It would be the utter humiliation if she was actually discovered. She heard footsteps approaching and froze, making her breathing extremely shallow and praying she hadn't been spotted. The footsteps crunched closer and closer and then passed her by to her relief. The urge to look almost made her twitch and she made herself begin reciting some of the meditations she'd learned from Lifeline. Somehow.. she'd always pictured the snipers as being pretty glamorous. They walked out with their rifles and then came waltzing back in, crowing about miraculous shots. None of them had ever mentioned to her how long and nerve-wracking the hiding part was after you took the perfect shot. This was miserable. And she had to pee. It really was unfair.

She told herself to suck it up. She hadn't wanted to be the best of the best and the cream of the crop in order to garner a lot of glory for herself. It was just that she wanted to make herself the best possible soldier she could. And she was there. Well.. she was.. as long as she didn't get caught. If she got busted, she'd be a smear of greenshirt jam on the bottom of BeachHead's combat boot for shooting him in the butt. She stayed very very still.

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Going back down into the Pit, Duke found BeachHead seated in the offices. He was missing his tactical vest and mask, but had replaced those with an accompanying medical sling holding his arm immobile. The Ranger was looking distinctly grumpy over it. "Broken?"

"Yeah. Danged woman.. she broke my danged collarbone with a marking round. Dang her." Beach was sitting extremely upright and twisted his neck. "Doc wrapped a thing around behind me, said if'n I keep the arm still fer a week, the bone should start healin', but I can't use the arm fer nothin' or he might have to go and do surgery to nail the bone back together."

Duke raised an eyebrow. "Nail it back together?"

BeachHead's eyebrows folded in as he thought it over. "Might'a been screws. I dunno.. he shot me up with danged pain killers too. So now I'm all.." He waved his good arm around. "... alll sorta hazy and confused. If'n he finds me, I'm in deep crap too, so don't go tellin' him I'm here." Duke sighed at him and picked up the phone. "You ain't callin' him, are ya? Cause I'm leavin' if'n yer gonna go gettin' me in trouble."

Duke held up a finger. "Hold that thought. Duke here. Yes... yes. No you don't need to search for him, he's fine. Yes.." He glanced at the Ranger who was minutely examining the edge of the desk. "Umm.. no, I think you should." He hung up and smiled at BeachHead. "So.. no one found any trace of a sniper, except for a little scuff in the sand.. could have been her, could have been one of the other searchers."

Beach sighed at him. "She's good. Course, LowLight wouldn't hadda gone and tolded her to shoot me if'n she wasn't gooder than most." He frowned. "Dang.. did I just say 'gooder'?"

Duke nodded somberly. "Yes, you did. You also said 'tolded'."

"Well dang. See? This's why I don't like Doc stickin' no mediciney stuffs in me that I don't up and danged well need. Dang it.. I just said 'mediciney'. Danged stupider drugs." Beach frowned and shifted in the chair. "And my ass hurts too."

Duke let out a short laugh before he swallowed it back. "Sorry. I know, those marker rounds really sting. I do appreciate that you take being a target so well. Some men would really get irate and try to get revenge on the trainee."

"Naw.. it's trainin' but... she sure ain't gotta go shootin' me in the ass." Beach thought it over for a second. "Collarbones hurt a lot too."

"That's what the pain medicine is for." Duke settled into his chair behind his desk. "At least she didn't hit you in the ear like that last one did. You were deaf for two days."

"Well, only in the one ear. I could hear fine outa the left one." Beach stared blankly for a moment. "Yer gonna put me on desk duty.. ain't ya? I don't wanna go on desk duty.. I hate desk duty. Plus.. who's gonna keep the greenies outa trouble? Slaughter? He's a danged idiot. He'll give everyone heatstroke and think it's good trainin' practices." He paused. "My ass hurts.. did I mention that?"

"Yes you did. Yes, you're on desk duty." Duke folded his hands and thought it over. "If Doc says that you're healing up though, in a week you can supervise morning PT, but not participate or go running or anything he says not to do. How's that?"

"Well..." BeachHead sighed. "That's just peachy. Will ya at least make Flint supervise PT while I'm sittin' uselessly behind a desk gettin' papercuts?"

Nodding agreeably, Duke pulled the schedule out to look it over. "I can put him out there.. tuesday... thursday.. friday and saturday. Otherwise, he's got other things. Now are you happy?"

"Happy as a danged clam. Don't I look happy?" Beach's scowl seemed to deepen. "Dang it.. my ass really hurts."

"So you've told me." Duke looked up as Lifeline ambled in looking distinctly surprised to see BeachHead. "Uh-oh! Look who randomly came to my office and happened to find you here, BeachHead."

Beach glared up at the medic, then turned the glare on Duke. "Oh yeah right.. randomly... like I'm gonna buy that story." Duke looked a little nervous. "I bet Flint narced on me. That stupid warrant officer can't keep his mouth shut."

Torn between not being shouted at and letting Flint take the blame.. or listening to Beach scream about betrayal and possibly turning his desk over, one handed or not, Duke sighed. "Noo.. I'm pretty sure it was just coincidence. It was coincidence, right Lifeline?"

The medic nodded and picked up some papers on Duke's desk. "Yessss... I was just bringing these forms to Duke." He waved them at Beach and handed them over. "See? I _am_ going to have to escort you back to the medical bay though. Doc told you a few hours, then you can go lie down for a while. You do realize you are actually supposed to listen to Doc, right?"

Beach glared. "Shut up. Useless little pacifist." He shifted in the chair. "It's boring to just sit in medical and Doc just wants me there so he can berate me about leaving."

Lifeline put his hands on his hips to try scowling back at his patient. "Well if you hadn't left, he wouldn't berate you about leaving."

Beach snorted. "If I hadn't left so he'd berate me about leavin', you wouldn't be beratin' me about not wantin' to go back to be berated at in the first place."

Lifeline blinked and turned to look at Duke. "Ow.. I think he just sprained my brain."

Duke shook his head twice. "Mine too."

LowLight walked in with a light knock on Duke's open office door. He was followed by Private Uban, still dressed in camouflage, although most of the ghillie suit was already gone. She smirked in a rather satisfied manner until she saw BeachHead was seated at the desk. Then she went pale and tried to back up. LowLight reached behind himself to snag her by the front of her shirt and drag her forward to stand in front of Duke's desk.

"Aten-hut!" She snapped into place and LowLight stepped up beside her, his mild voice sounding ever so slightly amused. "LowLight reporting on sniper final exercise. Private Uban has passed full sniper training and is recommended to become a full sniper with tab."

Duke nodded and looked at Beach who was glaring in a rather disturbing manner at the trainee. "Accepted. BeachHead? As primary greenshirt supervising instructor, do you concur?"

He flicked his gaze to Duke. "Yeah.. concurred." His sharp gaze returned to her face. "But my ass still hurts and you're gonna pay fer that one, missy."

Duke cleared his throat. "Although injury to the instructors is not the recommended method of training, it was unintentional, and therefor you are cleared for any wrong-doing in that. Private Uban, your record will be amended to show full sniper training has been accomplished. Congratulations."

She shook his hand somberly. "Thank you sir. I did mean to shoot Sergeant major in the.. ahh.. hindquarters, though sir. I didn't think it would injure him." She finally glanced at Beach and then stared. "Oh my god.. what did I do to your arm?"

Beach snorted. "Ya broke my danged collarbone, ya little pogue. Hope yer happy, I'll be sitting on my sore ass fer at least a week on accounta yer kill shot." He narrowed his gaze. "I ain't mad about that though, it was a good shot. Just accidental that it went and hit just right to snap the bone. But shootin' me in the ass.. that's low."

She looked nervous. "I.. I didn't have any other target on you.. and.. and it would count as a disabling shot, it would have broken your pelvis in real life, or possibly bled you out hitting a major artery. I was prohibited from taking any head shots for safety. I didn't mean to break your arm!"

Lifeline cleared his throat. "It's just the collarbone, not his arm, and technically a shot that hit where the.. umm.. rear hit was.. would have disabled BeachHead completely if it had been a true life situation. Even without knowing the exact angle, I can medically attest to that."

Duke nodded. "Sorry Beach.. legitimate target confirmed. Shooting you in the ass was a perfectly legitimate way to disable her target."

"Well.. " He fumed a moment. "My ass still hurts and I'm still mad over it, and you'd all better be danged glad I will be behind a desk fer a week."

Duke nodded to him. "Yes, we're all glad. Now.. go back to the infirmary with Lifeline so that Doc can get the berating part of your day over with." He looked at Lifeline. "Try to keep him from walking into the walls.. he'll get into a fistfight with the wall and think it hit him first."

Lifeline looked startled. "Really? Umm.. okay.." He motioned at BeachHead who levered himself up out of the chair. "Come on.. I'll have to meet you every day so I can remove the bandaging so you can shower too, but otherwise, you'll have to leave that figure eight wrap on to keep your shoulders pulled back.. got it? No pulling it off, no push ups.. are you listening?"

"No.. I ain't.. just shut up.."

They all sighed in unison as the voices faded down the hallway. Duke looked at Uban. "While I understand wanting to shoot him in his nether regions, that was stupid." He looked at LowLight. "Thank you for adding the 'no head shots' rule. Now, I'll put Uban up to accompany you the next sniper mission you get sent on. Otherwise, Uban, you're standard infantry, with additional training at the ranges to keep your target practice up. Make sure your weekly scores get to LowLight. And.." He tilted his head. "Keep OUT of Beach's sight for a week at least. He's going to be seriously grumpy about sitting behind a desk. Don't bother trying to apologize to him, just make yourself scarce. Got it?"

"Yes sir!" She gave a sharp nod and salute and he dismissed her and the team's premiere sniper from his office.

"Some days I just need to buy stock in aspirin companies."

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Hope you enjoyed. I'm trying to keep up with all the various fics, and I appreciate reminders that you guys still want updates on things, so don't hesitate to PM me to let me know I've neglected something a bit too long! LOL!


	16. Chapter 16:Wounds & Briefings

Sorry for the wait! Another chapter in the life of our favorite medic!

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Lifeline lifted his duffel bag to his shoulder and tried to twist his back while walking down the hallways. SnakeEyes gave him a new series of katas to practice every day while he was out on yet another hush-hush mission. Usually Jinx showed up at the same time as the medic and they would perform the exercises together. If there were any Joes going through hand-to-hand, sometimes Lifeline would get a few comments about being useless as a pacifist or a joke about pacifists would get told overly loudly. More and more Joes were beginning to accept him though.

As he got closer to the gym, he glanced at his watch and swore. He was early and would probably not get to practice with Jinx after all. The tiny ninja was one of the few people who went out of her way to be overtly nice to him. She said it was because she liked people almost as small as her, which he had to roll his eyes at each time. She was also a fairly awe-inspiring fighter from the sparring he'd seen her do with SnakeEyes.

Shouts and yells came from the gym and Lifeline rushed to push through the door to see what was up. His eyes lit on two greenshirts fighting with flashing blades, their combat knives flickering almost too quickly to be seen. Lifeline dropped his bag and ran up, pushing some of the onlookers aside heedlessly.

"Stop! Stop it! Someone's going to get hurt! No.." He grunted as the one startled greenshirt whirled around and ran into him, both of them staggering. He looked down at his midsection, the young man's hand pressed up against his belly. "Unng..."

It was suddenly quiet in the gym. Lifeline stepped backwards, watching the clenched hand turn loose of the combat knife that was left embedded in his stomach. "Lifeline? What... I didn't mean.."

Hands grasped at his shoulders and Lifeline realized his knees were buckling. "Lifeline? Hey.. dammit.. someone buzz the infirmary." Scarlett was hovering over him as he laid back on the thick mats. "Look at me.. just breath slowly. Doc will be here in a second. Just stay calm." She turned her head and snarled at the crowd. "Get Doc here.. now! Phillips.. go sit against the wall... Talbor.. watch Phillips, don't let him go anywhere.. someone alert the officer-on-duty. Go.. GO!" She bent over him again with a calm smile. "You're doing fine."

He panted slightly and looked at his hand. "I'm bleeding.. he uhh.. he stabbed me. How... why did he stab me? I never hurt him."

Dusty was there at his side opening a medical kit. "Hi Lifeline! I see you've gotten into more trouble. I'm going to get you a pamphlet on 'how not to ticc off people with weapons'. I mean really.. at least it wasn't BeachHead.. or worse, SnakeEyes.. then you'd be little bite-sized medic snacks." He gently moved Lifeline's hand from the blade handle. "Oh well, you don't do things halfway do you?"

Another greenshirt knelt and took up some of the gauze pads. "Medic Lifeline, Phillips didn't mean to stab you.. we were practicing with live steel today, it was just an exercise and you jumped in and it was an accident. He didn't mean to stab you, so you can't die or nothing, right?" He pressed next to the blade gently, packing the gauze around the wound as best he could. "We're not supposed to remove it, right?"

Lifeline nodded slowly. "Yeah... you do remember the first aid training. I'm all proud of you. Just.. put some bandaging to try to slow... slow the bleeding. I'm going into shock... raise.. raise my legs.."

The greenie nodded and motioned for another one to prop up the medic's legs on some folded towels. "Yeah, we all remember. Of course, we're not supposed to have to treat our medic."

Lifeline gasped. "Yeah well.. no fun on this end either. I hate getting hurt. Everyone... everyone always... uhh.. people think it's all poetic justice or something..."

Phillips yelled from over at the wall. "I'M REALLY SORRY!"

Dusty yelled back at him. "Shut up! You stabbed a medic! You're in such deep trouble!"

Lifeline took Dusty by the hand. "It's okay.. he didn't mean to.. I thought.. thought they were fighting.. my fault.."

Dusty shook his head. "Look at you, he stabbed you and you're gonna lie there and bleed and say it's your fault? You're hopeless."

Doc suddenly appeared looking concerned. "Alright.. what happened.. who stabbed my medic?"

Lifeline coughed a little. "Can we treat the patient, then find out who to blame how much for what? I mean.. I hate..." He coughed more. "I hate to be a bother.. but I'm kind of bleeding here.."

Scarlett rolled her eyes. "Oh geez.. 'me, me, me'. Lifeline, what will I do with you? How many hours have I spent teaching you to defend against attacks.. working around your silly pacifist belief. And this is how you repay me?"

Despite his best efforts, Lifeline's eyesight was beginning to waver. "I'm sorry Sergeant Scarlett..."

She shook a fist under his nose. "Oh no you don't! Don't you dare die on me! If you do, I swear, I'll have SnakeEyes dredge up some obscure ninja anti-dead formula just so I can kick your sorry butt! I've put way too much effort into you, and you haven't even gone into battle for GI Joe yet!"

He sighed softly. "Yeah... Beach'd be angry as all heck at me.. he'd drag my corpse all over the PT course. Be ugly.. bits of medic all over everything.. be a biohazard.. I don't wanna be a biohazard..."

Doc tutted at him. "If everyone is finished being overly dramatic, I'd like to move my patient to the infirmary so I can put him through surgery and save his life and all that unimportant stuff. But if you'd all rather have a tearful farewell scene instead, I'm sure we can accommodate that."

Lifeline whimpered a bit when they moved him onto a stretcher and carried him through the hallways. He caught glimpses of concerned and surprised faces in the halls and doorways. He started to shiver when they moved him onto a gurney. Sticks was there looking pale and Lifeline gave him a wan smile. "Hey... roomie.."

"Don't talk. Just.. " He swallowed. "Just hang in there.. you'll be fine. Doc'll fix you up." The intern sliced through the clothing and Lifeline tilted his head to watch. "Sorry, your new uniform.. gotta cut it off."

"I know.. I know.." Lifeline moaned softly as the ache began to turn into sharper piercing pains. "It really hurts.. where's Doc?"

"I'm right here.." Doc bent over him. "You're going to be just fine. It's not that bad."

"It feels really bad.." Lifeline felt like he was being awfully whiny and sighed. "I decided.. I don't like being stabbed.. I'm not doing that anymore.."

Doc shook his head, smiling at his chief medic. "Alright.. so noted. Knock him down, Sticks."

"Knock me down, roomie.. I'm really ready for... for.. uhh.. snnaaaahhh.." Everything began to go hazy and dark for the medic and he blinked and groaned softly. Sticks placed the mask over his face. "Aaahhhh.. nuughhh..."

His roommate smiled at him. "Breathe deep. When you wake up, Doc will have fixed you all up.."

Just before everything faded away for the blissful quiet of anesthesia, Lifeline heard Flint's voice sounding incredulous. "What? The pacifist got stabbed? He hasn't even gone on a real mission yet!"

0 0 0 0 0

When he woke, it was all pain and throbbing and all the lights were entirely too bright and the room was too cold.. his soft cries of pain brought one of the nurses to his bedside. Medications were administered to him to soothe the pain. A bit of time allowed his confusion to clear up. When he complained of being cold, extra blankets were brought, and the covers were warmed for him. The little gestures to give him a bit of comfort helped to calm him. Within an hour, he realized he was bored and tired and really should have appreciated all the patients he'd dealt with post-surgery a lot more. He vowed that he'd pay a lot more attention to them after they'd been through surgery of any sort, but especially if they'd gotten stabbed accidentally by a jumpy greenshirt.

"How are we feeling?" Doc walked in smiling at him. He waved a chart at him and looked rather proud of himself. "Your surgery went just fine. The knife missed all the important structures, didn't cut into anything dangerous. So it was just some muscle damage and bleeding. You were really lucky."

Lifeline felt extremely grumpy suddenly. "Well 'we' are feeling like someone drove a tank over 'us' and don't appreciate the whole cheerful medical personnel thing all that much right now. I sure don't feel 'lucky' over having a stab wound."

Doc didn't lose the smile. "Ahhh yes. Medics make the worse patients."

His second in command scowled at him and rumpled his blanket over his chest some. "I'm pretty sure the ninjas are worse than I am."

His boss crossed his arms. "I'm not sure.. they just disappear on us, quietly. They don't whine and fuss over everything. At any rate, you'll need to get up and walk the hall in the next hour.. so start psyching yourself up for that."

"Oh come on.. you just sliced me open and messed with all my insides.." Lifeline heard the whiny tone and shut up. "Sorry.. how bad was it.. for real?"

"It wasn't bad at all. The blade just sort of poked through the outer muscle sheath. You lucked out, the small intestine was probably brushed by the back of the blade, because I can't see any other way that you didn't have any perforated organs. A bit higher and you might have ended up with a lacerated liver, and then we'd have had some real issues."

Talking with his boss about familiar medical issues, even if they normally weren't in reference to himself, relaxed Lifeline a great deal. By the time Doc encouraged him to attempt standing and walking, he was mentally up to trying. Unsurprisingly, it hurt. A lot. He added 'sympathy when a patient needed to make the first walk after abdominal surgery' to his new resolutions.

His whimpers and groans got him some chuckles and heartless grins from Stretcher and Doc. LadyJaye came to visit just as he reached the end of the hallway. She was satisfyingly sympathetic to his pain, walking slowly beside him and letting him lean on her arm, tutting at his noises of pain.

"I've heard half a dozen stories of how it happened.. did a greenshirt really stab you with a combat knife?"

He sat back on the edge of his bed gratefully. "That hallway never seemed so long before.. yeah. Phillips and another one were sparring with real knives.. I thought they were really fighting and tried to interfere and ended up with his knife stuck in my belly. It's my fault, I should have sized up the situation before rushing in like that.. Scarlett is probably so angry at me."

Jaye pulled his blankets aside so he could lay down, tucking them in around him neatly once he was prone. "Scarlett is worried over you too. Don't worry so much. These things happen." She handed him a cup of water. "You'll be up and around really fast though right?"

He sighed. "Probably a couple days, then light duty a few more days. It's really not bad."

She nodded slowly. "Okay.. I'll let Flint know. Oh.. don't mention I said that. But.. " She gave him a significant look that obviously 'meant something'. "You should really push yourself to get back to a hundred percent... okay?"

Lifeline nodded wearily. "I will.. promise. I'll be up tomorrow, it's nothing."

A familiar accent made the medic wince. "Ah'll bet it's nothin'." Beach stepped in to glare at him in his bed. "Heard ya managed to step into a knife. That's real danged inconvenient fer me."

Lifeline rolled to his side and frowned. "Sorry.. I'll try to consult your schedule before I get stabbed."

He might have imagined it, but there might have been a twitch of amusement on the annoyed face. "Yeah, you do that. Doc said ya got outa bed already."

"Yes, I walked up the hall and back."

Beach snorted loudly and looked at LadyJaye for a moment before he reached to slap at the medic's leg. "Well, then get up. If ya can walk, no reason to be in bed."

Jaye crossed her arms and frowned at the Ranger and he glowered back at her. She shifted closer to the bed. "Give him a break BeachHead. He just woke up from surgery. I'm pretty sure that he deserves some time to recover."

"Yeah right.. he gotta poke in the belly. It ain't all that bad, I asked Doc." Beach stepped backwards when she rounded on him. "Hey hey.. he's gonna lose what little danged conditionin' he's got!"

Lifeline groaned. "Beach.. I'll be up by tomorrow, I promise. But I'm not going to go do PT and pull out my stitches and end up back in surgery just to please you."

"Ain't about pleasin' me.. it's about servin' the team." Beach turned his back to leave. "Figure that out, medic." He disappeared and Jaye cursed softly.

Lifeline tossed his blankets aside and dragged himself out of the bed to hobble to the doorway. "BEACH! You come back here!" He saw the man stop, reaching up to tug one of the shoulder straps on his body armor while he waited for Lifeline to make his way down the hall to him. "Don't tell me I'm not about the team! I'm about the team!"

This time the amusement was definitely there. Beach tilted his head and looked so smug. "Ah know.. yer a good team player."

"But.. but you.. but you said.." Lifeline sputtered.

"Motivatin' thing, anger at a person." Beach turned and walked away again and Lifeline cursed under his breath. Hunched over in pain, he watched the Ranger leaving and turned to go back to bed.

Jaye met him at the end of the hallway, offering to assist him back into the bed. He waved her off and sat himself on the edge of the mattress. She sighed at him. "Don't pay too much attention to BeachHead.. he means well..."

"He's such a pain. It's like he doesn't care about anyone. We're just automatons for him to get running at peak performance, he couldn't care less if one of us is hurt." Lifeline rolled back into the bed and tugged his blankets up.

The intelligence op shook her head. "He.. well.. he cares. It's hard for you to understand. Anyway, just get better and I'll see you around, okay? If you need anything, just call for me." He nodded and she patted his arm.

Once she was gone he sighed and scooted further under the covers. BeachHead or not, he was cold and hurting and feeling pretty sorry for himself. He'd indulge in one day of self-pity before he had to suck it up and haul himself back into the grind, sound body or not.

0 0 0 0 0

By the next day, he was almost ready to go back to a full schedule just because he was bored and tired of visitors who wanted to pamper him then regale him with their own injury stories that made his stab wound sound like a paper cut. Finnegin had been the best, sneaking him a dessert and a good book. Uban came to fuss over him, bringing along Phillips who insisted on apologizing again and again. Even if Lifeline had been willing to nurse a grudge against the poor young man, he couldn't after finding out how many hours he'd be practicing knife fighting so he'd be able to avoid stabbing a friendly body.

Before Doc even made it into the infirmary, Lifeline was up seated behind his usual desk, working on files he would have gotten the day before. It had nothing to do with Beach's taunting the day before. He told himself that three times, just to be sure.

His boss came in grumbling about having to hunt down his patient. "Why are you working?"

"Because I'm well enough to sit up and if I'm well enough to sit up I might as well sit up at my desk and be useful." Lifeline continued to shift the reports, filling in the treatment notes for all his patients.

Doc smiled down at him. "Beach?"

The medic sighed at him. "Let me guess... he does that to everyone?"

"No.. not everyone. Just those with enough work ethic for it to work on." Doc waved at his midsection. "How's the incision?"

"It's sore. I'll be fine."

"Just don't over do it. Even if Beach taunts you, don't fall for it and end up having to get more medical attention. We'll need you whole and well very soon." Doc gave him an significant look and headed to his office to begin his day. Lifeline took a deep breath carefully, holding his stomach with a hand. It would be a tough couple of days, but since people seemed to be hinting at something big coming, he'd better suck it up and get better FAST.

0 0 0 0 0

Staggering slightly and groaning at the aching pain in his midsection, Lifeline pressed fingers to his belly and wondered how BeachHead would always know exactly how hard to push him before he wouldn't be able to lift a single finger more. PT had been harder than normal for the last week. He'd taken four days to recover from the knife wound, then started up with limited PT. BeachHead sneered, insulted, yelled and harassed him into doing more than he really thought safe each day. Each morning, Lifeline swore to himself that he would ONLY do a certain amount, and invariably he left the PT field having gone far beyond his planned limits.

Right now he wanted to try to get a hot shower and clean clothing before the briefing started. The 'big thing' was finally getting revealed to a handful of the Joes as they planned the strategy. He'd prefer to not be covered in mud and sweat and unmentionable slimy bits of whatever Beach found to shovel into the pipe tunnels they crawled through. He was heading up the medics in this operation, so this was his first real official mission where he was in charge of something.

The men's showers were somewhat crowded with Joes getting their own showers. Lifeline stripped off his muddy PT clothing and was asked by a few of his fellow soldiers about his wound. Mostly people seemed comfortable with him in charge of any field medical personnel, and that heartened him a great deal.

Flint walked by as he was toweling his hair dry. "Don't be late to the meeting.. it's starting at 0900 sharp."

The medic nodded sharply. "Yes Warrant officer Flint. I'll be there." He rushed to get back to his room and get dressed. Trotting down the hallway, he pulled off his glasses to clean the lenses as he rode the lift up to the second level. He was relieved to see people still arriving at the conference room. It wasn't as if anyone could show up to a meeting with Duke and General Hawk in attendance still filthy from morning PT. He was just glad he'd mastered the art of speed showering, so that his only evidence of the time spent cleaning himself up would be his damp hair. Almost everyone seemed to have done the same thing, so he sighed in relief.

"Medic Lifeline.." Duke's aide motioned to a chair along one end of the table. Lifeline shuffled his way between people to seat himself. His packet of files was handed over and he spent a few minutes poring over the information. Most of it was standard field operating protocols for going into possible battlefield situations. The medic began immediately lining up who he would have with him and what duties each would be best suited for. Writing notes down and listing people and materials and vehicles he would need to have in place occupied him as everyone took their seats and flipped through their own information packets.

Flint stood and cleared his throat. "Alright we're waiting on someone... "

BeachHead's distinctive voice came from the doorway. "Ain't waitin' on no one.. Ah'm here." Lifeline peered around the empty chair next to him and saw Beach striding into the room. The Ranger was still mud-smeared and grumpy looking. The Joes that he had to squeeze past to head for his seat drew back and wrinkled noses. "Get outa the way.." He elbowed Clutch to move the mechanic/driver aside.

"Geez Louise! Beach couldn't you at least hose yourself down before you come inside around the civilized people?" Clutch waved a hand in front of his face.

Beach snorted at him and dragged his chair to the side to seat himself, tossing a clipboard onto the table. His sleeves were pushed up the sizable forearms and he tilted his head to look at Clutch briefly. "Ah hadda run the greenshirts through the courses.. no time to go and pretty up like ya'll."

Flint spoke up then. "This briefing is called to order... you all have your packets. Cobra has an operation hidden in a small village in Brazil. The intelligence reports tell us that they have an impressive amount of facilities underground, so we'll need to plan on..."

Over two hours later, Lifeline had a few pages of notes and suggested a central location for him to set up the triage. BeachHead immediately vetoed his suggestion.

"South flank.. set up there, secondary site in the rear." Beach scribbled another note about something unrelated as he spoke over Lifeline outlining his plan.

The medic glared at him. "Central location makes more sense. Why would I put the larger amount of emergency medical supplies on the south flank rather than.."

Beach overrode him again without regard to his argument. "We're gonna have heavier casualties onna south flank, we'll lose less of them wounded if'n we ain't gotta drag 'em across the whole battlefield for treatment." He lifted his voice to speak to Flint. "We're gonna have a mobile unit fer ammo supply? Ain't gonna hafta deal with shouting strong words at Cobra when we run outa bullets this time, right?"

"Yes Beach.. we'll make certain you have bullets." Flint sounded vaguely annoyed, but pointed out the supply vehicles driven by greenshirts. Even he and Beach kept the snarky remarks at each other to a minimum. This was a business meeting, with everyone outlining their parts and how they would work together. Lifeline was struck with the realization that not only were people going to get wounded.. some would die.. and his companions at the table took those facts as casually as they would the announcement of meatloaf for dinner. The absurdity of the idea that they were planning actions that would lead to people getting killed suddenly hit him and he had to swallow nervously. He was the one responsible for taking care of all of the wounded people.. he would be the person that they looked at to save lives, a lot of lives. His stomach did a slow roll to the side.

"Lifeline?" Duke sounded slightly irritated as he got the wandering attention of the medic. "If it's not too much trouble..." Lifeline straightened and shook his head. "I want to know who you have slated as field medics. I know you're one of the field medics yourself, but you could end up needed at triage and treatment if casualties get heavy. You'll also be coordinating with Wild Bill for medical extraction of any seriously wounded men." LadyJaye conspicuously cleared her throat and Duke amended his statement. "Seriously wounded soldiers.." He raised an eyebrow at her interruption. "You and Doc will also want to double-check the local bases' medical facilities and see what they can handle in a pinch. Just in case things go bad."

Doc nodded at their leader. "Already have their abilities on file, Duke. I keep up on all bases medical facilities just in case we end up nearby."

Beach snorted softly and leaned over to Lifeline. "Pay attention to Doc, preplannin' ain't never wasted time nor effort."

Lifeline nodded. "I feel out of my depth.. what if I screw up? Maybe I'm not ready."

Another louder snort. "Yer fine. Doc didn't think ya ready, he wouldn't put ya in charge of nothin'. Relax."

Staring incredulously at the Ranger, Lifeline leaned to speak quietly. "Wait.. you trust Doc's judgment in me.. not that _you_ think I'm ready."

Beach glanced at him with an irritated look. "Yeah."

Before Lifeline could respond, a greenshirt came scrambling into the room. He beelined for Duke, throwing an apologetic glance to BeachHead who was frowning at the interruption. "Urgent report Duke!"

Duke took up the report and stood up. "Everyone gear up. The mission is moved up to NOW! Cobra forces have just been detected beginning to mass at that facility. I think we can leave the questions as to whether it's a fully staffed base for Cobra aside for now. Two full squads of Crimson Guards were just spotted on a transport, at least a dozen HISS tanks are grouping at their base. We think the target will be a genetics research lab located here.." He pointed at the map projected on the wall. "We leave the Pit in an hour. Everyone move the schedules up, any issues take care of them, or come tell me or Flint. BeachHead, load those greenshirt troops of yours up, have them supplement the support personnel so we can have everything loaded and ready."

Beach nodded and stood up, ignoring the need to wait to be dismissed. "On it Duke." He tugged his mask slightly. "Grab yer hats and bats, boys.. it's time to go." The mud spattered Ranger disappeared into the milling Joes.

The room emptied distressingly quickly and Lifeline found himself running down the halls for the infirmary in the rush. All his self-doubt bubbled under the surface, but his attention was turned to getting the two days worth of planning and preparation done in a single hour, trying to figure out where he would cut corners and which things would be left behind as unessential. Comfort was going to be thrown by the wayside, he was only concerned with life-saving items now.

Sticks rushed up to him when he entered the medical section. "We were just told an hour! What are we going to do?"

A wave of calm suddenly enveloped Lifeline and he nodded. "We do what we always do.. we do the most important jobs and let the others get done as they get done. Pack the triage first, field packs too. Emergency life-saving equipment, surgical equipment, full treatment gear. We don't have personnel to even carry the rest to the transports.."

A rattle of noise and they turned to see twenty greenshirts in full body armor arrive at a run. They slammed to a stop and snapped to attention. Lifeline stared at them. "What now?"

The head greenshirt nodded. "Sergeant major sent us down for mule duty, Medic Lifeline. We're under your command for the next hour."

Two seconds later and Lifeline was frantically directing warm bodies in picking up boxes, trunks and bags. Maybe.. just maybe this was actually going to work after all...

0 0 0 0 0

End Chapter

Next up.. a battle.. will Lifeline be able to rise to the challenge? Will Cobra win out? Who will make it through the battle alive, who will die?

As always, readers loved, reviewers adored! Thank all of you for reading.


	17. Chapter 17: Final Endings

Finally... the final part to the story of Lifeline! This begins with Lifeline in the midst of the battle in a small town! Sorry for the long wait, but battles are difficult to write, especially when it's about the medic, not a real combat soldier. Since I took so long to get it written, I've posted the last part in entirety, without breaking it into two or more chapters. So this is long, and enjoy.

Warning: Character death. Sorry if this is a spoiler, but I feel I should post the warning.

* * *

Lifeline ducked low, running faster than he'd thought was humanly possible at such a low crouch. Rifle fire whined over his head as he dodged around a clump of rocks and dropped to a knee next to a bloodied greenshirt. "It's Medic Lifeline.. where are you hurt?"

He was answered with a groan as the young man clutched at his leg feebly. "Stupid.. I should have moved faster... Sergeant major'll be mad at me..." He watched Lifeline tying a snug bandage into place. "I can walk.. you don't have to evac me or anything."

"Good, I wasn't going to." Lifeline nodded at him. "Try to make your way back to the triage.."

"I can still fight!" The greenshirt protested and began struggling to get to his feet.

Lifeline pointed back towards the rear lines. "You'll be a liability in the front lines.. go to triage, you can provide security to the other wounded. Got it?" He watched the angry expression fade somewhat and his patient nodded. "Trust me.. if I thought you could do it, I'd send you back in. Keep your head low, just because you're headed for the rear with a bandaged leg, there's no guarantee the enemy won't shoot at you anyway."

"Hell Medic Lifeline.. Cobra would shoot you if you were in a coma.. I know that!" Gaining his feet finally, the greenie began hobbling along, taking advantage of any cover when he could. Lifeline tugged his bag shut again and looked out across the battlefield. He was already tired, despite the adrenalin rush of battle. He was supremely tired of tying torn bodies back together in this stupid fruitless fight with the enemy. A nearby explosion sent chunks of sod flying towards him and he put up an arm to block the dirt showering onto his bowed head.

"Geez! This is ridiculous!" A small Joe unit ran forward to his right and he watched them attacking another group of soldiers dressed in bright blue uniforms, the Cobra logo prominently displayed on the fronts. As men shot at each other, the medic shook his head and turned his steps that way. It seemed pointless to attack the enemy only to have them attack the Joes. Nothing was accomplished but making wounded people for him to check and treat and drag to the dubious safety of the rear lines. He scurried up to a limp body and checked for a pulse at the neck. Finding a strong throbbing pulse, he grabbed the straps of the battle harness and began dragging the wounded man backwards out of the fray. A stray bullet pinged off a rock and whined past his head and he winced.

"Medic Lifeline!" Stretcher's welcome voice made Lifeline turn. "Is that Steeler? Injuries?" He bent over the body, making a quick routine check for obvious injuries.

"He's unconscious.. but I don't think he's too badly hurt. Get him out of here." Stretcher nodded and picked the heavy driver up to sling him across his back. "Dang it.. what now?"

"MEDIC!" The shouts came from far to the left near some buildings and Lifeline grabbed his heavy medical pack to run towards the noise. "MEDIC!"

"I'm coming!" Turning slightly to zero in on the shouts, Lifeline spotted the crushed side of a wooden building and several Joes standing nearby exchanging gunfire with Cobra attackers in red. "Who's hurt!"

"HERE!" GungHo waved at him. "There's civies here.. we gotta get these cheries outa here!" Approaching closer, Lifeline found the burly Cajun shepherding three small children away from the fighting. "Take these here kiddos, their mama is trapped, I'm gettin' her.. stop cryin' now cheries, Lifeline will take care of you.." The heavily muscled Joe turned to drag boards off a trapped woman and bent over her.

Lifeline gathered the three kids up and shooed them further away. "Come on kids.. back here.. we'll bring mommy in just a minute.. " Ushering them along the roads as quickly as possible, he looked over his shoulder checking for any enemy forces chasing them. "Come on.. we have to move fast.."

"Stop right there!" A helmeted figure in red with the now-familiar logo across the chest stood in their way, weapon brandished boldly at the three children and unarmed medic. "You're not going anywhere.." As he lifted the rifle at them, Lifeline stepped in front of the kids, blocking the line of fire. "Get out of my way.. you're just going to be first... drop your weapons.."

"I'm a medic! I don't have any weapons.. you can't kill little kids!" Reaching behind him, Lifeline pushed the smallest girl further behind the slight shelter his body would provide. "Come on.. they aren't hurting anyone! Leave them alone!"

"Have it your way, Joe.. you'll just be first.. then.." One red gloved hand came up to touch a little sliver of shiny metal that suddenly sprouted from his throat. "Unng..." A strange wet gurgle and the Crimson Guardsman fell over.

"Don't just stand there, silly gaijin! RUN!" Jinx's tiny form darted up to snatch her throwing blade from the body. "Get those kids out of here.." She ran to the wall of a building and scrambled up the seemingly smooth surface like a squirrel and disappeared.

"I'm scared!" The tiny girl clung to the medic's leg and he bent to lift her to his hip. Pushing the two young boys along as well, Lifeline managed to move them all back along the streets to where the corpsmen were helping wounded Joes and civilians evacuate. "No no! I want you!"

Disentangling her arms from his neck, Lifeline summoned up a reassuring smile. "Well maybe I'll see you in a while.. but right now, you have to go with these guys.. you'll be fine.. take your brother's hand.." He handed the kids off and searched for the supplies. "Give me a fresh medical pack."

"Lifeline!" Doc surged out of the group and grabbed his arm. "Stop.. you're bleeding.." Looking down at his arm where his sleeve was torn, Lifeline poked at his arm and winced when it stung. "Let me check that.. we can use you back here."

"No.. I gotta go.. it's nothing." Lifeline tugged free and snatched up a fresh medical bag. "They need me more out there.. GungHo is bringing in a civilian woman.. possible crush injuries.." He shouted the last words over his shoulder as he ran out of the crowd of medics and support personnel. ".. she's the kids' mom.. get them together!"

Taking off and running for the loudest noises of explosions and gunfire, Lifeline tugged the chin strap of his helmet, snugging the protective headgear further forward. By the time he was near the fighting, Flint shouted at him.

"Lifeline! Get down!" The third-in-command waved at him. "Stop running.. get down!" Hefting his gun, he waved again. "Get down!"

"I'm fine! It's my job to go find wounded!" Lifeline continued towards the battle noises and ignored the shouts as he was ordered to stop again. When the ground blew up almost under his feet, he was knocked down and fell almost at Flint's feet. The warrant officer grabbed him by an arm and dragged him to the side, cursing loudly. "Ow.. what was that?"

"You idiot! Next time you LISTEN TO ME!" Flint took the opportunity to shake the slender medic. "Dammit you could have been killed! Stupid green medic!" He dropped Lifeline and stepped away, shouting for Joes to move in from the right side before he turned back to Lifeline again. "Are you okay?"

"Uhh.. yeah..." Getting to his feet shakily, Lifeline checked himself over. "What was that?"

"Bombing run.. I told you to stop! Next time you ignore an order like that, you better hope you're blown up!" Flint stomped away and ordered another unit of men forward, keeping his eyes on the fighting. Lifeline hefted his pack and watched for a few minutes until he saw a Joe go down hard a few hundred yards away. He took off running, ignoring incoming gunfire, and trying to stay out of his fellow troops line of fire where he could. His red uniform made the Joes see him a little easier and he heard a few shouting at him as he ran through the lines.

A greenshirt was already pressing down on the bleeding wound when Lifeline dropped to a knee beside limp body. Some small part of his brain made a note to add kneecop pads to his uniform to save him breaking his kneecaps on the rocky ground and pavement. "How bad?" he asked the young greenie.

"IT'S REALLY BAD!" The shouts made Lifeline wince as the greenshirt continued. "I CAN'T GET IT TO STOP BLEEDING, MEDIC LIFELINE!"

"You don't have to scream, I'm right here!" Lifeline reached to peer into the helpful greenshirt's eyes. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

"WHAT?" The obvious blank stare as the greenshirt squinted at him made Lifeline realize he'd been deafened.

Lifeline pulled his hand away from the side of the greenshirt's head and found sticky blood. "Let me see your head.." A quick check showed a trickle of blood from his ear. "Were you too close to an explosion?"

"WHAT?" The greenshirt pointed at the fallen man instead. "HE'S HURT.. HELP HIM, I'M FINE!"

Shaking his head, Lifeline turned his attention to the patient under his hands and quickly located and tied off the torn vein. A snug bandage wrapped the arm and he picked him up to sling the limp body over his shoulders and head out of the firing line on the flank. The gunfire was getting thicker and he tried to hurry faster. When he turned to call to the other greenshirt, he saw him running towards a small group of Joes, rifle firmly held in his hands, despite his partial deafness, he was still determined to go back into battle. "HEY! Come back here!" Realizing even if he could have heard the medic's summons, the greenie wouldn't have listened anyway, Lifeline continued carrying his burden away from danger.

* * *

Lifeline crouched beside Dusty, trying not to duck every time a explosion went off or a shot was fired close by. A ten-man unit of Joes were crouched behind a overturned semi-truck, while the men at the ends fired at Cobra troops that had taken cover behind a makeshift barricade. Dusty rubbed the end of his sleeve across his forehead and grinned at the medic. "Doing okay there?"

Lifeline nodded. "Just waiting and hoping I won't be needed, you know?" He winced when a barrage of rifle fire clicked along the upper edge of their cover. "There's been enough fighting today.. this is so useless."

"Got that right. Cobra never wins, you'd think they'd learn and quit attacking." Dusty moved to peek out through a crevice. Lifeline sighed. That wasn't quite what he'd meant. Cobra was only half the combatants after all.

"MAKE A DANGED HOLE!" The bellowed warning made him jump and Lifeline scrambled to the side, hugging the metal truck body as half a dozen greenshirts came piling up behind the truck, BeachHead bringing up the rear, rifle in hand. "Reload, check the action on yer rifles, don't step on the medic, he's hard ta see on accounta he's so short.." Beach walked past Lifeline, using the butt of his rifle to whack the side of the medic's helmet lightly. "Watch out.. yer touchin' mah gun there.. might catch some violent tendencies.. could be like cooties..."

"Very funny BeachHead." Lifeline tugged his helmet straight and rolled his eyes as the Ranger moved up to confer with Stalker. He shook his head and looked over the greenshirts who were field checking their rifles and reloading, swapping ammunition back and forth. None of them looked to have any serious injuries and he moved closer to Dusty out of the way. Beach came back through at a trot, nearly tripping over the medical bag on his way. "Watch it!"

Beach disentangled his foot from the strap and grimaced, giving the medic another slap to his helmet, this time with his hand. "Dang it Lifeline.. keep yer toys out from underfoot." He headed on down to peer around the opposite end of the barrier, taking a few calculated shots before he ducked back and went to have another discussion with Stalker again. "Uban.. take the end of the barrier, shoot at will." The burly Ranger smacked at Lifeline who ducked this time. "Finally.. I was beginnin' to think ya liked gettin' thumped in the head."

"Well I didn't realize we were playing 'duck, duck, goose' Beach!" The sharp laugh only lasted a second before Beach rejoined Stalker. Lifeline looked over at Dusty who was wiping his rifle clip clean of dust and reinserting it. "Why is he like that? It's like life means nothing to him."

Dusty's head turned to look after the dirty figure. "BeachHead? No.. just human life." He grinned at the medic. "Oh come on.. I'm kidding. BeachHead is just... hmm.. perky. He lives for battle situations. And he's good at leading soldiers into battle and bringing them home again." The desert trooper tucked his rifle next to his thighs and squatted down comfortably. "Can you honestly tell me you'd have been able to do everything you've done today, and be standing here ready to keep going, if BeachHead hadn't been riding you so hard to preform better and better?"

"No. I understand the training. But.. " Lifeline shook his head. "Never mind... I don't know how to phrase it right Dusty... I just wish he took killing a bit more seriously. There's teammates getting shot out there. He doesn't seem to care about it." Scooting further down the line, the medic listened to BeachHead and Stalker talking via a communicator with Flint.

"_Destro's on site.. he's coming around towards your position, Stalker.. two troops of Iron Grenadiers escorting some sort of big weapons system or bomb.. Mainframe thinks they want to get it inside the refinery to set it off. We have to keep them out of that refinery._" Flint sounded tense.

Lifeline leaned to be able to hear clearly. He'd read about Cobra's main leaders and so remembered Destro as one of the head commanders and thought he was one that wore a shiny mask all the time. He didn't remember hearing the term 'grenadiers' before but could assume they were special troops.

Stalker took a deep breath, looking at their surrounding area. "We can get into position to defend the refinery if we make a dead run through that open field, between those buildings and then go up three blocks." He peered at the map Beach already had out. He pointed at the area streets. "Here and here.. put our guys in here and Flint's forces come in along the south end.. he's almost there already."

Beach tilted his head to listen as a plane passed fairly close overhead, ignoring it when it didn't drop down in a threatening stoop on their position. "Yeah.. Flint ain't got a buncha Cobra troops shooting at his guys from behind a barrier neither. We can get there from here.. but we'll lose half our guys if we just pop out from behind our cover and start racing across open ground." Before Lifeline could consider Beach's words proving he did care about saving the lives of his men, he continued. "Ain't no way we'll be able to hold off a Grenadier unit with only half our guys."

"Figures.. he's just worried he can't win the battle.. not worried about how many guys are dead." Lifeline muttered under his breath. The medic gathered his bag up to get ready for a run.

BeachHead finally turned to the Joes and greenshirts. "Alright.. Uban.. you and me will stay here and keep the Cobra's heads down, the rest of ya'll make the run across. Once under cover, I want Alpine and Hill to give me and Uban cover to make the run ourselves. Then we can head straight fer the refinery behind Stalker." He pushed various troopers into place and checked his own rifle and set out two extra clips. "Lifeline, go with the main force and Stalker." His voice lifted over the noise of battle. "Ya'll remember these are gonna be Grenadiers.. not some cannon fodder troops."

Lifeline moved to the group that lined up to make the all-important sprint across open ground. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Leatherneck frowning at him. "Hey medic.. don't run up on no one's heels. Grouping up will make us a bigger target, got it? I don't want no pacifist getting me shot."

"I won't.." Stepping back another foot, Lifeline was shoved forwards abruptly by ShortFuse from the front just as a loud 'spang' came from just over his head.

"Watch your head... there's a gap right there.. I wouldn't suggest you stick your head in that hole.. might catch a bullet in your teeth." Even with the friendly pat on his chest, Lifeline felt uneasy among all the fighters. Somehow he was right in the midst of violence.. and he was supposed to help injured people, not be an injured person.

"Thanks.. sorry." He shifted himself out of the way and hefted the bag up.

Leatherneck poked the bag, making Lifeline stagger slightly off balance. "Maybe you'd better leave some of that stuff behind.. it's gonna slow you down and ain't none of us gonna be stopping to help you carry it." Another poke and he staggered the opposite direction.

"You're right Leatherneck.. so in your infinite wisdom.. will you be getting gut shot or get hit in a major artery? Because I'd need to know which kit to leave behind? I'd hate to have you bleed out on the ground because I left the vein stitching kit back here. I mean.. if you'll promise to hold off on bleeding until I can run back to pick it up.. that's fine." Lifeline gave the Marine a placid smile, nodding with a earnest air of goodwill. "Just let me know.."

"Oh shut up." Leatherneck pushed past the medic, muttering to himself. "Stupid medics.. always gotta act smarter than everyone else.."

Dusty grinned as he moved up closer. "Not smarter than everyone else.. just you Leatherneck!"

"Ha ha.. you dumb desert rat.. isn't there a rock you should be under somewhere?" The Marine turned his back on all of them while Dusty elbowed Lifeline and nodded with a wink. "Stupid.. dumb.. thinking I don't know nothing.."

"Don't mind him.. he's always grumpy." Dusty hefted his rifle up and tucked his arm through the strap. Crouching slightly, he peered through a crack, checking on the enemy fire. "I hope Uban is as good a shot as she says she is.."

"Ya'll shut up that yappin'! Get ready.. go on Stalker's move." BeachHead settled his rifle on the upper edge of the wreckage barrier, taking aim at the Cobra troops.

Dusty yelled at the line. "Yeah, let's grim up guys. No laughing in the face of danger for us!" There was a smattering of chuckles and Beach scowled as Dusty nodded at him. "Keep us covered, Sergeant major!" All of the soldiers settled and became serious as Stalker raised a hand.

Suddenly everyone was moving, racing in zig-zag patterns across the open ground, well apart as rounds snapped through the air around them, kicking up puffs of dust or bits of pavement as the enemy tried to take advantage of their lack of cover. The sudden heavy rifle fire from Uban and Beach kept most of the Crimson guardsmen ducked behind cover. Within seconds of them emerging from cover, the Cobra troops almost ceased firing entirely, preferring to keep from being hit by the two sharpshooters left behind.

Almost ceased wasn't completely ceased. Lifeline saw one of BeachHead's greenshirt troops go down hard up ahead of them. He sped up, passing a startled Dusty and a even more startled Leatherneck. Slinging his medical bag over a shoulder, he reached down as he got to the stunned young man. Grabbing the battle harness in one hand, he twisted himself around to begin dragging the trooper to cover. He was dismayed when Dusty and Leatherneck ran past him without stopping. Once they were behind a building, they set up some cover fire to try to keep the Cobra snipers from being able to shoot at the medic or the downed man.

There was a sudden increase in incoming fire and Lifeline cursing, trying to crouch lower as he dragged the now struggling soldier. Reaching a crumpled piece of unidentifiable vehicle, Lifeline tugged his patient behind it and dropped to his knees. "Where are you hit?"

"I'm fine.. I think I tripped.." The greenshirt's unfocused eyes and rapidly swelling lump on his head told Lifeline he was in no shape to fight. "Just let me get up.. where's my gun?"

"Stay still..." Checking him over, Lifeline found the bullet wound in his lower leg. "You've been shot in the leg, then you must have hit your head." He wrapped a quick pressure bandage in place to stop the bleeding.

"No.. I just tripped." Sitting upright, the greenshirt blinked in confusion. "I'm fine.." Lifeline tugged at his arm, trying to keep him behind the cover. "Let go.. Sergeant major wants us to get behind the buildings." Lifeline ran his fingers over the rapidly swelling lump on the man's forehead. He must have struck his head badly on the ground when he'd fallen.

Dusty shouted loudly. "Keep down! They're regrouping!" The desert trooper went back to firing again. Lifeline peered out through some cracks, watching the Cobra fighters multiply as reinforcements arrived to help them out. He needed a break in the gunfire to get his patient safely to the more substantial cover behind the buildings.

All of the Joes under cover of the buildings set up to fire on the entrenched Cobras and Lifeline heard Beach yelling at Uban to run for it. He twisted to see Uban sprinting for the buildings, the Ranger two steps behind her taking potshots at the Cobras on the run.

"Sergeant major's coming!" Before Lifeline could grab him, the wounded greenshirt got to his knees trying to raise up. A meaty thunk heralded the shot that hit his patient in the torso and he jerked abruptly and fell over almost on top of the medic.

"No, dammit! Stay down!" Frantically searching for the wound, he found a 'through-and-through' in the poor guy's shoulder. "Great.. now I've got two gunshot wounds to treat on you.." There was a soft groan and he checked to see if they had a clear run to the buildings. Grabbing the man's wrist, he ducked and twisted to heave him over his shoulders and took off, following right behind Uban and listening to Beach's cursing behind him.

"Damn it, Steen! Get under cover!" Before Beach could shout at him again, the bullets whizzing by them ceased, although the rifles were still firing. Screams began to sound loudly in paniced tones instead. "Don't stop.. keep going!" Beach shoved at him when Lifeline would have paused to see what was happening to the Crimson guard troops that had been shooting at them. Once they reached the cover of the brick buildings, Beach immediately turned to begin taking shots at the enemy soldiers who were oddly breaking from cover, tumbling over the concrete wall.

Lifeline set the injured man down and began checking him over carefully. Once he was certain the young greenshirt was stable, he peered around the edge of the building. BeachHead was grinning under the balaclava, shooting down Cobra's elite troops as they struggled to stop a whirling figure from lopping off various limbs or heads. The medic felt his mouth fall open in complete astonishment as he watched his friend Jinx, the tiny dark-eyed sprite of a woman, as she efficiently scythed her way through the enemy soldiers as if she were preforming her daily kata with the straw targets. Only... straw targets never spurted blood, screamed or thrashed about on the ground like these troops did. She wielded a sword in one hand and an odd shaft with a hooked blade on the end of it in the other. He watched her duck a spray of paniced automatic rifle fire, kick a advancing attacker behind her in the throat, swing the wicked hooked blade through a exposed neck and straightened just in time to swing both weapons to neatly decapitate the last man standing near her.

Lifeline suddenly noticed the lack of gunfire and blinked. Beach's voice was a distant roar in his ears as he tried to process the mayhem he'd just witnessed. Jinx's red clothed slender form was racing across the open area as she caught up with them. The noise around him hummed and ebbed in nonsensical tones as he watched the deadly ninja... ninja, which he finally understood was a real term to be used for a certain type of human trained to be beyond a walking death reaper... watched her approaching at a run.

Someone grabbed his shoulder and shook him, shouting in his ear that some corpsmen were taking his patient and he nodded rather numbly. He regained his feet and gathered up the medical supplies to tuck into the bag automatically. A hand grasped his arm and he looked at the red cloth of the sleeve, noting the blood splashes blending into the color. His eyes rose to Jinx's rather pleased expression. She said something to him and he just stared at her for a moment.

Suddenly time rushed in and her words were audible to him again. "Medic Lifeline.. are you okay?"

He nodded at her. "I'm fine... you really... I mean.." His hand came up to wave in the direction of the bodies sprawled on the ground where they'd fallen. Mercifully, they'd all stopped twitching finally. "You.. I didn't think that... that you were really.."

"Ahhh.. the little gaijin believes in ninja, now, does he?" She put a hand on his helmet to wiggle his head around fondly. "We all told you. Now you believe in ninja." She stepped back and finished wiping the sword blade clean before slipping it back into it's sheath on her back.

"There is no person on earth that could be a better fighter than you are, Jinx." Lifeline spoke honestly. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like that.. I won't ever see a fight that is more violent or more graceful in my entire life. I didn't know it was so real."

His praise seemed to both embarrass and please her and she shook her head dismissively. "Ahh.. you flatter me. But I couldn't save people's lives like you do.. only end them... in many varied ways.. but they are all ending. But Sensei SnakeEyes is more of a master than I hope to be." She suddenly straightened up to dart away at a yell from Stalker. The group was moving out and Lifeline grabbed up his bag to follow behind, still shaking his head as he wondered why she was so self-effacing. No matter how good a fighter SnakeEyes was.. he didn't believe he could possibly be better than what he'd just witnessed.

"Lifeline! Move it!" BeachHead sounded annoyed and the medic put on a burst of speed, rushing to catch up. "Don't go fallin' behind, you dang medic... Destro's around here. Cobra would love to pick off a medic. With yer 'please-shoot-here' outfit, ain't like it'd be too hard to spot ya." Lifeline nodded and settled into place just to the side of the Ranger who was the rear guard of the whole group.

"Yes sir.. I'll keep up!" Lifeline was treated to a highly annoyed look from the Sergeant major.

"Ya know.." Beach ducked slightly as they cut through a half destroyed fenceline. "If'n ya weren't so danged useful, I'd trip yer ass fer callin' me sir yet again... ain't ya never gonna learn?"

They rushed through the streets, dodging to keep mostly under cover where they could. When a white figure dropped from seemingly nowhere into their midst, everyone scattered. One of BeachHead's greenshirts was taken down with a blindingly fast attack, and Lifeline turned to head to try to help him. Stalker slammed an arm into his way.

"Look out!... keep out of the way!" The ebony skinned Joe threw his rifle up barely in time to deflect a sword stroke from taking off both their heads. Lifeline whirled trying to keep track of the ninja's movements. Stalker knocked him aside again, yelling loudly. "StormShadow! Surrender now!" He blocked another slice with the stock of his rifle. It split from the force of the blow leaving Stalker with a unusable weapon. Instead of finishing his opponent, the ninja suddenly leapt up onto the brick wall of the building behind them. An instant later bullets impacted where he'd been standing. "Down!" Lifeline was shoved again, tumbling to the side just as a handful of bright ninja stars flickered past his head.

StormShadow was delicately balanced on the thin bit of brick ledge on the building nearly fifteen feet up. More frighteningly, his hands were full of steel blades, a thin katana sword in his right hand, with slender throwing blades between the fingers of his left hand. "Surrender to such a weak group of Joes? More likely for me to forfeit a battle with the local Girl Scouts!"

"Girl Scout this!" BeachHead's growl barely preceded a hail of gunfire as he emptied a full clip of ammunition into where the ninja had been only a millisecond beforehand. Stormshadow dropped from building to ground and then almost on top of BeachHead. He quit firing and dove to the side, rolling desperately to get out of range before the ninja reached him.

"Rolling in the dirt suits you..." StormShadow wasn't even breathing hard. He stabbed once, twice, three times, as the Ranger scrambled out of the way. To Lifeline, it was obvious he was merely toying with his victim. The sword tip penetrated the cloth over a shoulder, making BeachHead yelp in pain. The ninja herded him towards a wall, intent on trapping him.

Stalker leveled his handgun at StormShadow's back cursing loudly. "StormShadow!" Before Lifeline could even blink, the ninja seemed to blur as he twisted to run to the side, stepped up onto the wall then swung around to kick the pistol out of Stalker's hand. He watched the katana's blade swing in a smooth arc towards Stalker's head even as he tried to stumble backwards frantically.

Instead of the expected meaty thunk of the blade chopping through human flesh, there was a loud clang of metal hitting metal and SnakeEyes stepped closer to bind the sword blades together and push his opponent further from his teammates. StormShadow backed off but then stepped forward in a whirling attack on the black-clothed Joe, his sword flickering as it reached for tender flesh, blocked repeatedly by SnakeEyes' own blade.

"You've improved since we last fought." StormShadow suddenly backflipped out of range as SnakeEyes attacked. "Seeing you use the Arashikage techniques against me will only harden my resolve to see you beaten and bleeding under my foot." A flicker of movement and a sharp pointed ninja throwing star was deflected by SnakeEyes' blade. "Am I pressing you too hard? Perhaps I should tie a hand behind my back to make this easier for you... getting slow without a proper sparring partner?"

Lifeline saw quick movement of the Joe ninja's hands as he answered in sign and StormShadow sneered at him. "Yes, apprentice.. I'm just sooo very proud of both of you. It'll make me feel terribly guilty when I kill you both someday." SnakeEyes seemed to leap impossibly high to close with his opponent and they clashed, swords being the least of the attacks they utilized. A stray throwing star impacted the wall over Lifeline's head and some sort of pointy spike thing tumbled aside after StormShadow did something rather uncannily fast with his left hand while trying to strangle SnakeEyes with the other. The two ninja seemed inhumanly quick and bonelessly agile as they swarmed each other, changing position too quickly for anyone to be able to interfere or intervene. StormShadow tumbled backwards turning a fall into controlled roll and popping to his feet into a fighting stance without any apparent effort. Without warning, he turned and sprinted at the brick wall BeachHead was standing against trying to get a bead on the Cobra ninja. The Ranger fell over trying to avoid getting skewered again and cursed as the ninja ran straight up the wall without pausing to disappear over the top edge.

SnakeEyes started towards the building only to be stopped by Stalker's hand on his arm. "Let him go, Snakes.. we have other things to get done." The team leader shouted at them all. "Get up.. let's get moving, we have to get into place to back up Flint or he'll be overrun! BeachHead! You okay?"

The stocky Ranger looked up at the empty roof and swore once more. "Yeah.." He felt at his shoulder and frowned at the blood on his fingers. "It's a flesh wound, I'm fine." He gathered up the greenshirts and jerked his head at Lifeline still sitting on the ground where Stalker had pushed him. "Get up Medic! What's wrong with you?"

"I... they... " Lifeline blinked at him, still trying to process the flashing images of blades and thrown weapons and kicking and murderous efforts to destroy each other he'd just witnessed. "Ninja?"

Dusty gave him a little push to get him moving, a sympathetic smile on his face. "We know how it feels.. just tell yourself how nice it is that we have two ninja on our side. Doesn't help much, but just enough to keep me from hiding under my bed every night, anyway."

Lifeline nodded and struggled to put the sight out of his mind and run faster. They were close to the refinery and he saw the fenceline. BeachHead looked at it as the group turned a corner and he shouted up to Stalker. "Cut the fences here?"

Stalker turned slightly to shout back, but didn't stop. "No, let's not give Cobra a ready-made opening we'll have to defend. Gates are just up here.." He waved Leatherneck forward, pointing for Uban and Dusty to flank to the side as much as possible. "Keep watch, Destro is around here somewhere."

"Indeed Joes! Destro is here!" The Cobra second-in-command sounded confident and smug. He stood on a squat heavy tank, the sunlight glinting off the strange metal mask covering his entire head. Lifeline stared, getting his first look at one of the Cobra leaders in person. "My Iron Grenadiers will destroy you! You will be crushed underneath the wheels of our Razorbacks!"

Lifeline stared and then was abruptly shoved to the side. Before he could protest the rough treatment, he heard the shots ringing out as they came under fire from snipers up on the top of a nearby building. He ducked down and scrambled to the side just as a ten man unit popped up from behind a low wall to attack them. It was troopers in gray armor and even as he dodged for cover, bullets hit around him with scary accuracy.

"Keep yer head down! Uban! Hill! Short-fuse! We need cover for Stalker and Dusty!" Lifeline twisted himself around behind his scant piece of twisted postal box, staring in horror as BeachHead left his own cover and charged towards a second group of attackers, firing as he ran. To the medic's surprise, the enemy fired at the stocky Ranger but missed hitting him as he ran a twisting path to a better firing position. Uban and Hill took the opportunity to find better cover themselves and began firing on the attackers. With three Joes keeping up a heavy rate of fire, Stalker and Dusty could find themselves proper cover from their precarious hiding spot they'd found when the attack began.

"GO! GO!" Uban shouted as she sighted in on Destro and made him dive for cover with her shots. She glanced to see if the two Joes had made it to cover and abruptly jerked and crumpled to the pavement in a limp heap. Lifeline scrambled up and ran towards her, heedless of the bullets whining and ricocheting around him.

"Uban!" A spray of bits of rock flew up into his face and he dodged and kept heading for her. He could hear the shouting and the gunfire and the rumbling vehicles but it was unimportant next to getting to his friend.

"Get that Joe!" A flurry of shots began to land around him and he raised a hand up to cover his head as if somehow his flesh and bone would block a speeding bullet. He heard BeachHead's angry bellowing and the Joes began firing wildly, trying to pin the Iron Grenadier troops down to prevent them from shooting at their reckless medic.

Destro's voice seemed all too close as some trick of the acoustics brought his angry tones to Lifeline's ears. "Take the Joes out, we need into the refinery now! The explosives have to be set INSIDE the refinery!"

Lifeline reached the slender unmoving body and grabbed her under the arms to drag her backwards as quickly as possible. "Please be okay.. Uban? Come on.. you're tough.. tough it up!" He ignored the lack of response as much as he ignored the gunfire around him. "Come on Uban... " He dragged her behind a bit of collapsed wall and laid her down carefully. "Let me see.. how bad are you hurt?" Tugging her helmet off carefully, he put a hand out, staring at the bloodied hair. "Oh no no..." Peering into her unseeing eyes and feeling for a pulse, he moaned softly. "Uban... no no..." He patted her blond hair gently, trying to think of something he could do to reverse death. He had a whole bag of medical gear.. and nothing in it would help a bullet through the brain. His friend's body lay in his arms and he sat helplessly, staring blankly at her peacefully relaxed face.

"Gawd dammit Lifeline.." BeachHead's arrival behind the cover was accompanied a flurry of bullets and a puff of dirt and dust as he slid to a knee next to the medic. "Whut the hell are ya doin'? Evac Uban and get back.." His eyes fell on the limp body and Lifeline's stricken expression. "Aww hell." He bent and placed rough fingers on her neck to be certain. "She's gone.. leave her.. "

"I'm not leaving her!" Lifeline resisted when Beach grabbed his shoulder and bodily lifted him to his knees. "She was my friend!" He struggled to wrench free of the powerful grip. "Let go!"

"She's dead.. ya can't help her.. we need ya. She don't need ya no more.. go.. GO! Damn ya pogue! Do yer damned job or Ah'll shoot ya mahself!" For an instant, the ingrained obedience and terror of the Sergeant major instructor made Lifeline leap to his feet to rush out into the battle.

He slammed to a stop just shy of exiting the cover. "No! NO!" He turned and stepped into Beach's face, letting the Ranger run into him and standing firm enough that BeachHead staggered back a step rather than plowing over him. "NO Damn you! You bastard! YOU sent her out there! She's dead! DEAD! I can't FIX dead!" He saw the amazing sight of BeachHead flinching back from him just a little bit. With that instant gone, the craggy face bent into a murderous scowl and the medic deflated. "I can't..."

"Gawd damn ya then... sit here." Beach shoved past him, rushing through flying bullets back into the fray, somehow dodging around the fate that claimed the fair-haired Uban only moments before. Lifeline backed up half a step and watched blankly as the Ranger threw himself back into the useless conflict, probably to get wounded for no real reason, so Lifeline could treat him and toss him back out to get wounded again, until he too was killed. The uselessness of the entire effort seemed to sap the medic's energy until he felt a supreme effort just to stay standing.

He watched the Cobra troops arriving to back up the Iron Grenadiers, the combined efforts pressing the Joes back behind the fenceline, although the Joe team was holding them off by sheer willpower, combined with a lot of firepower. Lifeline could see the device strapped onto one of Destro's Razorback vehicles, just waiting to have an opening. The device would cause most of the surrounding town and countryside to be obliterated, and only the GI Joe team stood between Cobra and their objective. Despite being outnumbered, the team was standing firm and even ferociously counter-attacking, putting themselves into the line of fire to prevent an atrocity from happening.

Lifeline suddenly gathered up his medical gear and slung his bag over a shoulder. Someone on his team could need him. When he poked his head out, he ducked back quickly as a stray bullet clipped the concrete next to him. Then he sucked in a deep breath and sprinted out towards the heaviest rate of fire. Someone would be bound to get wounded in the fray, he needed to be there when they did.

He crouched as someone lobbed a grenade rather close to him, the explosion sending bits of pavement flying. "Get under cover, Lifeline!" Stalker's yell made him give a wave of acknowledgment as he dodged around to scurry under cover next to the Ranger sergeant. "You're pretty ballsy to be running around out there with no gun."

Lifeline blinked to clear his eyes from the dust. "Well, a gun isn't going to block many bullets from hitting me, is it? I think body armor would be a better bet." His monotone delivery made Stalker give him a glance.

"I recall a few people telling you body armor was a good idea." Stalker fired a few shots off and then pulled out his communicator to call in to Flint. "We're holding, barely.. where's the reinforcements?"

Flint's voice came over the staticy connection. "_Incoming in five minutes tops.. hold them back, if they get that thing inside the refinery we're all going to glow in the dark_.. "

Stalker grimaced. "Yeah, right up until we disintegrate into our component atoms.. " He shifted to gain a better firing position and unloaded a clip at a oncoming Razorback, his bullets finding the front wheels and then the fuel lines. The explosion caused a short lull in the gunfire.

They both saw Dusty try to take advantage of the slackened firefight and make a run for a slightly better piece of cover. When he spun and went down, Lifeline could actually identify the fine red spray that erupted from his side. Stalker cursed behind him as Lifeline sprinted for the downed trooper. His chest tightened as he got closer until Dusty rolled over slightly, clutching at his chest and letting out a shriek of pain.

"It's okay.. I'm here.." He crouched and put a hand on the bloodied chest and had a flash of memory of preforming these same actions on the obstacle course so very very long ago. "Dusty, you're going to be fine..."

"Can't breathe..." The clutching hands were weak and Lifeline ignored them to search for the wound. The bubbles appearing made him clench his teeth. Dusty wheezed painfully. "Lifeline?"

"You have a sucking chest wound, Dusty.. don't worry, I'll take care of you.." A bullet clipped the heel of Lifeline's boot, making him jump. "First let's get you under some cover.." He bent to scoop both hands under Dusty's arms, dragging him backwards.. again.. reminiscent of the same actions preformed in training. If BeachHead saw him, he'd be certain to have some pithy comments to make sure he was reminded of why training was important. "Shut up BeachHead.."

"Whaa?" Dusty's voice had gone very low and he struggled to cough. Lifeline dragged faster and found some cover for both of them. Once they were safer, he wrenched open his pack and found a chest tube to insert. Each routine step of treatment went without issue, and Dusty was sooner groaning with more vigor as his wound was sealed up to prevent lung collapse. "Is it bad?"

Lifeline gave a reassuring smile. "Of course it's terrible, Dusty. You're so tough, it'd take something really horrible to actually knock you down."

"Shut up.. " Dusty still managed a weak grin. "You're too small to be smarting off at folks..."

"I am NOT short.. and if you don't start being nice to me, I might just forget the pain killers when you're in recovery. How's that for mean? Lie still, I'm going to get you an extrac.." Lifeline shifted to look out, rather astounded to see only a few people still fighting. Somehow the battle had ended without him noticing.. too engrossed in treating Dusty's wound to pay attention. The Joes had routed the Cobras, despite smaller numbers and the Iron Grenadiers with their heavy attack vehicles. Even as he watched, BeachHead directed a handful of greenshirts in capturing and securing the last small Cobra unit. He raised his voice, unsurprised when it cracked partway through. "I need a medical evac! Dusty is serious!"

He received some shouts assuring him that there was incoming transport and went back to check his patient. No one else on the field where he could see was serious enough for him to leave Dusty right now. He seemed stable but Lifeline would feel more comfortable when he saw the Joe soldier into a proper surgery. Dusty was reduced to moaning softly when WildBill arrived in a chopper to pick up the worst of the wounded. Stretcher arrived and the wounded corporal was secured in a litter and carried to the waiting Tomahawk.

Lifeline selected the wounded that needed to be airlifted out immediately, directing the others to be taken to the rear lines to the triage center. As he climbed into the chopper to ride with the worst wounded, he lifted his gaze finally to the tiny crumpled figure in the distance. There was already corpsmen gathering up her body, lifting it to a waiting bag. He knew by now, Joes took care of their own and everyone came home.. even when it was a final trip.

The choppers rotors revved up and the noise seemed to shut everything away from him, a wall protecting him and his charges from the reality of the battlefield. As they lifted off, he watched the figures moving around, taking care of all the details. He could pick out certain Joes as they preformed duties that were second nature to them after so long of living this strange life of battles and strange opponents. He'd been in firefights before, had experienced people shooting at him. Somehow the GI Joe team was different. It was more than following some vague orders. It was about saving... everything.

And he was part of it. His eyes tried to pick out the dark bag containing his friend on the rapidly dwindling field and failed. He'd failed to keep even his best friend safe. Lifeline could picture her grinning at him, some smart comment just fading off her lips as she teased. She'd accepted his beliefs. And.. his eyes widened slightly as realization dawned on him. And she had believed herself in the ideals of the Joe team, believed she could make a difference, and she'd made that difference in giving up her life for the goal of bettering the world.

A groan made him turn from the doorway. "Hey guys.. everyone doing okay?" He bent to check the first of his teammates. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you..."

* * *

_Back at the Pit.. many hours later_...

Lifeline sighed and walked outside. The motorpool was bustling with people working on the vehicles. Some were tearing apart the damaged ones, others were doing basic checks and maintenance on the intact ones. Clutch was busy kicking a front fender while cursing loudly. His greenshirt assistant was standing off to the side out of the way, wincing at every kick and every curse equally. Lifeline walked through them unnoticed.

Out into the heat and the heavy handed breeze of the afternoon, he wandered down near the obstacle course. Not that he wanted to go there without having to, but there just wasn't much elsewhere to go. If he went to the hangers, he'd find the same frantic activity on aircraft as was happening in the motorpool. Everyone was busy taking care of the normal duties after a major operation. He was just off duty, ordered to go rest by Doc. He wasn't sleepy yet, the adrenalin still affecting his body. Downstairs where the rest of the team were trying to unwind and soothe themselves, he was treated to sympathetic looks, and mournful gazes as everyone had heard of Uban's death. Lifeline took the one pleasure he had in letting the team know that Dusty would be fine. The well-liked desert trooper was a favorite for everyone and the relief was palatable as his welcome news was spread around the Pitt.

It wasn't really enough though and he'd gone up to the surface, craving the openness, and unable to deal with the stifling interior of their underground base right this moment. He walked past the heavy wall blocking the obstacle course off from the rest of the field.

"Go away.. dammit."

Lifeline lept up, startled so badly that he stumbled trying to move in two directions at once. "Holy.. BeachHead?"

"Ah said go away.."

The medic spotted BeachHead seated on the top edge of one of his climbing obstacles. "I didn't know you were out here.."

"Where else would Ah be?" The irritation was obvious in the deep accent. Lifeline edged closer, curiosity getting the better of his good sense. Despite the words, the tone wasn't the same commanding bark and the medic took a chance and stepped closer. "Whut do ya want?"

"Nothing.. I just.. I was walking.." BeachHead's face turned away again, as he went back to staring. Lifeline cast about for something to say. "Uhh.. Dusty is going to be fine."

That got the Ranger's attention. "Good. How bad was he?" His shoulders were hunched slightly, almost like he was tired and upset. That was patently ridiculous. This was BeachHead, Sergeant major, Ranger, Badass, Uncaring Unfeeling...

Lifeline cleared his throat. "He took a round through his right lung, but it wasn't damaged much, Doc got him all fixed up. It'll take a while before he's back to full active duty though.. don't think you'll be going to the infirmary at 5am to roust him out for PT or anything." He swallowed as he heard the harsh tone come into his voice. He was trying to make a light comment, not insult the big instructor. "I uhh.. I didn't mean.."

"Ah know whut ya think." BeachHead took a deeper breath and turned to look at him. "Fenicky, Hardwin, Smith and.. dang it.. Uban." He paused, and his face got hard. "That's four more sets of folks Ah gotta contact tomorrow."

Lifeline's sympathy evaporated without warning. "That's it? That's what you're worried about? That you have to be the one to contact the family? It's just another duty for you?" He stepped closer, heedless of the possible anger from the other man. He'd been pushed too far by life today, by death today, by Death. Someone had to be at fault, it couldn't be the uncaring universe. "Everyone on this team is just another tool to you.. just something to use, until they get too broken to use anymore." Frustrated by the lack of response, he experienced a unreasoning desire to push the man. "Why don't you care!"

BeachHead finally turned to look at him directly, reaching to pull off his balaclava, the dirty facemask still showing spatters of someone's blood, the dirt from where he'd taken a dive into a ditch ground into the line along his cheekbone. "Ya know whut Ah did when Ah got back to base?" He waited for Lifeline to shake his head. "Ah watched four a mah greenshirts being loaded onto a trolley to get taken to our morgue. Betcha didn't know we had one, did ya?" This time he didn't wait for a response. "Ah HATE bodybags. Ah trained 'em.. obviously not good enough, or they figured they done got good enough to not bother rememberin' how to act on a battlefield.. or just plain bad luck. Ah taught 'em, Ah led 'em, and damn if'n Ah'll let someone else bring 'em home. Now Ah gotta go write letters to tell their mommas that their kids done gone and got killed, and Ah can't even tell 'em how it happened. It's gotta be all 'in service to their country' crap." His voice roughened until he had to clear his throat.

Lifeline took the moment to speak up quietly. "Isn't there someone else?"

BeachHead snorted. "Yeah.. Duke used to just let the office staff send a notice. Flint took over and started sendin' form letters. Ya think that their families deserve to get a form letter and a box of ashes? Ya think that properly respects yer teammates?"

"No, I guess not."

Beach sighed and suddenly deflated. He didn't look like the impressive drill instructor, or the fearsome Sergeant major. Just a very tired dirty soldier. "Ah figured you'd understand better than most.. considerin' yer line a work." He reached up and scratched at his dirty jaw.

:Actually... I do. I worked really hard... because I guess I felt like if I worked hard enough I could keep all my friends safe on a battlefield." Lifeline sighed.

Snorting loudly, Beach rubbed one hand over his scuffed up hair. "Well now.. that's just stupidity if'n Ah ever heard it."

Bristling, Lifeline clamped his jaw shut on the heated response and walked over to seat himself next to Beachhead to his surprise. "Why is that stupid?"

"Well dang it, Steen." Beach looked down at the smaller man and saw what he'd been hoping for since the first glance he'd taken at a skinny bewildered medic. He saw a strong-willed, driven man willing to put everything on the line for the team. He liked what he saw and felt like this was finally someone he could trust his troops to. "Ya can't save all of them, ya know."

Almost as he expected, the face turned to look at him, a hard gaze and a mature determination gleaming out at him. A finger came up and pushed those ridiculous shaded glasses back into position on his nose. "No? Well..." He looked out across the field where the sun was finally starting to set. "Well... I can damned sure try."

* * *

Fini

Yes, done. This has been the story of our favorite pacifist medic. I hope that you've enjoyed it and that it's been satisfying. It's been a long time getting it all written, and I feel like I've told the story as best I can, and that I've stayed true to the characters. Who doesn't like the most awesome medic in GI Joe? Lifeline rocks.


End file.
